Roommates Nemesis
by ElyPines
Summary: While Captain America and the Winter Soldier fight each other almost every day, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are best rommates. Or: Steve is oblivious and Bucky has amnesia.
1. Steve's POV

Steve's POV

Cap was after the Winter Soldier. Well, at least, that's how Nick Fury and SHIELD had put it because, frankly, they didn't really seem to do anything but playing cat and mouse. Steve would receive a text from Sharon or Nat - mostly Nat - telling him where the Winter Soldier had been spotted. He would go there, they'd fight until one of them would decide to retreat and that would be all for the day. No winner, no loser. Plus, the Winter Soldier seemed to be following the same orders than him: going after his enemy.

Still, Steve was bleeding already. He could feel the blood dripping from his wrist and soaking his sleeve. This time, the Winter Soldier may have been up to set a bomb in Manhattan - he wasn't sure, he hadn't had time to check it yet. Steve saw him standing over the rooftop and he immediately threw his shield at him. But the Winter Soldier bent backwards and dodged it before starting to fire right after that. One of his bullets hit Steve in his left arm before he could take cover behind his shield.

Cap located the fire escape and immediately went to climb it up. They met on the roof and started fighting hand to hand. As always, the Winter Soldier seemed to have an unlimited supply of knives and guns. Steve had gotten quite tired of that. He slammed his hand on the assassin's right wrist to force him to let go of his weapon - and in retaliation he got a cut in his right shoulder from the knife in the left hand.

Steve took a few steps back to catch his breath before rushing in the battle once more. They kept fighting and wounding each other - Steve was lucky enough to throw a punch in his opponent's jaw strong enough to send him on the ground for a few seconds - until one of SHIELD's helicopters appeared in the dark sky. The Winter Soldier fled and Steve was too exhausted - once again - to go after him.

Half a hour later, Steve was already on his way home. Fury had told him that the Winter Soldier couldn't have gotten too far, that he had agents on him etc - while Sharon confirmed that the box they had been fighting around (not Steve's best idea) was indeed a bomb - but he knew they wouldn't catch him. They never did. This game had been running for a whole month now.

Steve felt drained out but his lips curved into a faint smile when he got his eyes on the door leading to his apartment. He had a spurt of energy and jumped over the few remaining steps. He stopped at the threshold however and delicately tried to manipulate the handle. The door was locked. Meaning Winter wasn't home yet. Steve let out a sigh of relief and reached for his keys.

The blonde took a step inside his home and took in the whole place with a glance. On his right, a door led to his roommate's bedroom. His own was across the living-room, on the other side. The living-room itself had a yellowish/brown couch, a coffee table - where they put the pizzas during movie nights - a huge flat-screen TV on the wall framed by two large windows that opened on a very nice Brooklyn neighborhood.

Facing the couch and the TV was the kitchen island only separated from the rest of the room by a countertop. Steve felt like going for the fridge to see if there was any fresh drinks left but decided against it when he saw the dirt and the blood he was leaving on the floor behind him. He hurried to his room and took off his stained and dirty uniform before heading for the bathroom. It was situated behind the kitchen and opened from both side. Thus they always had to be careful to lock the two doors when they wanted to use it but it was a small price to pay for a bathroom linked directly to their personal room.

Steve took a long, hot shower, allowing his body to relax completely. He also bandaged his wounds, wrapping his wrist in gauze and putting a band-aid on his shoulder. When that was done, he washed the floor, from the entry door to his room. He then took a beer out the fridge and retired to his room. He set himself comfortably on his bed and took out his sketchbook. He wanted to draw that odd building he had went by on his run this morning but his fingers seemed to be to tired too so he finally settled on his book.

He was in the middle of chapter 3 of __The Fault in Our Stars__ \- Sam told him it was a emotional book and he was starting to understand why - when he heard the entry door opening. He lifted his head thought he couldn't - yet - see through the walls. He heard Winter's footsteps going to his room. There was some agitation then he heard the vacuum.

Steve rose an eyebrow. That was odd. Well, it was Winter's turn for the cleaning indeed but it was only Friday and they usually did the cleaning on Sundays. In fact, the vacuum stopped roaring pretty fast. Winter couldn't have done more than the living-room - or the kitchen. Steve shook his head and went back to his book. His roommates must have accidentally drop something on the ground and he was cleaning up his little mess.

Shortly afterwards, the shower got turned on. Winter stayed in there for twenty-three minutes before Steve heard the distinct sound of his body slouching on the couch. That sound made him smile irrepressibly. He hesitated for a short time before he closed his book and rose up.

"Hi there!"

Winter lifted his head when Steve appeared in the living-room and let himself fall on the couch with a thunk that made the whole thing shake.

"Hi" the brunette answered - then his eyes flashed back to the TV's black screen.

After a month together, Steve knew that his roommate wasn't the talkative type. He spoke only when necessary and could spent hours just staring at nothing, his knees pressed against his chest.

Steve bit his lips.

"Are you... okay?" he asked.

This time, Winter turned his head directly at him and Steve saw that the right side of his face was all swollen and red. Without thinking, Steve raised his hand in his direction but Winter quickly backed away, scowling.

"Yeah I'm fine. What about you?" he snapped back, staring deliberately at Steve's dark eye and his other bandages. He squinted his eyes, looking more concerned. "Did something happened at your... job?"

The blonde winced.

They never talk about his job. Everyone out there in the word knew that Steve Rogers was Captain America but actually few people knew his actual face and Winter had never given the impression that he had figured out that his roommate Steve Rogers was in fact __the__ Steve Rogers. Which was truly a good damn thing. Steve was tired of the media, of being who the people wanted him to be, to react how they were expecting him to react - and so on. It was so relieving that the brunette only saw him as the random person who happened to become his roommate - and he really wished it could stay that way.

(At the beginning, he had imagined he would change his name - he had already chosen a new one: Abraham Barack Kennedy - but he had figured he wouldn't like being called something else than Steve. For sure, he would never have made a good spy.)

"Not... exactly. Just a... fight. You know."

Winter kept staring at him for a few more seconds then he shrugged and went back to the black screen of the TV. For a moment, Steve hesitated to offer to turn it on so they could watch some mindless bullshit - but the state of his friend worried him.

"Winter... You're sure you're okay?"

He knew that the boy - who couldn't be far younger than he was (minus his seventy-or-so years under the ice obviously) - was a student. An art student, even (thought the blonde never got to watch one of his painting.) And the brunette was built quite broad. But it was true that he always wore worn-out jeans, big combat boots whose laces were almost ripped off totally and hoodies twice his size. Besides, although he took regular showers, his long brown hair always looked like a mess. No wonder if his whole pitiful appearance attracted bullies - a thought Steve simply couldn't bare.

"Listen" he said more firmly, putting his hand on the brunette's right shoulder "if there's someone beating you up-" (Thinking about it, Winter got beaten up pretty much as often as Steve got his ass kicked by the Hydra assassin he was supposed to chase and arrest. That may explain why Steve had taken so long to notice. Not great Rogers.) "-anyone at all, please tell me. I'm, er, stronger than I look and really, all I want is-"

But Winter slipped away from his grip and got back on his feet.

"I'm __fine__. Just stop asking."

He looked around, fidgeting with the trim of his left sleeve.

"I'm... going to prepare dinner" he announced.

Steve jumped on his feet.

"I'm helping too!"

Winter glared at him but said nothing.

They made dinner together. Steve took on him to reheat the two steaks on the pan while Winter made a salad with chopped potatoes. Steve couldn't but notice, as always, how incredibly efficient Winter was. He was so focused on his task and his hand moved with such precision that the blonde would have bet that the bits of potatoes had all the exact same size.

Steve's gaze also fell on Winter's left hand still covered with a thin black glove. Usually, he wore the gloves on both of his hands but as far as Steve knew, he never took the left one off. Not even when he was cooking.

Once, during their first week, Steve had asked him if he wasn't too hot with it - and Winter growled. One week later, when the weather got suddenly colder, he asked him if he wasn't actually too cold - as a supersoldier, Steve ran hot and didn't always remember that the people around him may not feel the same as he did about the temperature - but the brunette growled again - and more aggressively. Steve decided that it wasn't his business after all.

Dinner was ready. Winter took the salad and the meat to the coffee table, between the couch and the TV screen while Steve opened the cupboards to take out two plates, knives and forks. They turned the TV on and settled on the news. They ate in silence, listening.

"Want to play video games?" Steve asked when they had finished and the brunette had risen up again with their plates in his hands.

Winter shrugged and put the dishes in the sink. By now, Steve knew him well enough to know that him shrugging was his kind of a "yes" answer. So he put on __Mortal Kombat__ and made sure the game pads were linked to the PlayStation. Winter came back on the couch and they started playing against each other.

Something not many people knew was that Steve, when playing video games, was no more a role model for the youth.

"Aw! Come on!" he moaned when Winter hit him with a combo. "Fucking shit, no you're not doing __that__ to me!" he yelled when Winter threw five punches in a row. And: "Are you fucking kidding me?!" - at the pad that obviously - __obviously!__ \- didn't work as fine as Winter's did.

Steve went quiet for a bit after that, scowling. He glanced at his friend. Winter looked as focused as he had been when he was making the potato salad. The way he used his pad was highly effective too - thought Steve had had to explain to him the controls like a month ago and they hadn't played that much since then.

The match ended and, unsurprisingly, Winter was the winner. Steve glanced at him with the corner of his eyes and saw his shoulder fell as he let out a sigh. Had he been under stress all along? For a game?

"Buddy, that's really impressive" Steve told him and the brunette stared at him. "How do you do that actually? Like how are you so good?"

The boy shrugged.

"I've had a good training" he answered.

Steve looked at him confused and his confusion made Winter frowned too. He closed his eyes. And re-opened them after a whole minute.

"I mean, at playing video games."

He slouched deeper into the couch as if he hoped to disappear within it.

"You... trained at video games?" Steve asked to be sure he had understood right.

"Yeah. When you're not here."

He was avoiding his eyes now so Steve figured he should drop the subject.

"Okay. Nevermind. What should we play next? Oh I know!"

He affectionately shoved his friend in the ribs but Winter gasped with pain.

"Oh my God!" the blonde shouted instantly, "it's that bad?!"

He was already tucking at the purple hoodie to take it off.

"Please, let me see!"

But Winter didn't want to and kept kicking him and his hands while recoiling on the far side of the couch.

"No! Leggo of me!" he shrieked and his voice sounded way higher than usual.

Steve frowned and stopped.

"Winter. What's going on."

The brunette turned away and wrapped his arms around his knees tighter, completely shielding himself from the rest of the word - and for one moment Steve thought he'd never answer.

"I just fell off the stairs, okay?" he then said weakly - before his voice got more irritated. "Why are you like that? I told you I'm fine!"

Steve stared at him but Winter didn't move and only looked hurt so he sighed and rose up. He headed for his room and came back shortly afterwards with a DVD in his hand. The boy was still in the same position, curled up in the left side of the couch. The blonde was sure his roommate was hiding the truth from him but he couldn't asked for it if the brunette wasn't willing to open up to him in the first place - that would be wrong. So instead, he showed the DVD to him. A flash of interest passed in Winter's eyes when he saw the title __Star Wars Battlefront II__.

"Look, I picked it up at the store yesterday. Sam told me it's a really good game. Wanna try it?"

Winter finally looked up at him and slowly nodded. Steve smiled. While the blonde put the game in their PlayStation and start it, he bent to the floor and picked up the two pads they had both dropped to the floor during their argument.

"Thanks" said Steve when he handed him his pad.

The credits rolled up and the epic music spread into the room.

"Did you manage to see the movie the day they went out?" the blonde asked to lighten the mood.

The other one stared at him way too longer - and Steve started to shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"No... I was too young. And you?" Winter asked, squinting at Steve.

Oh God. Steve realized what he just said. The first __Star Wars__ movie was out in theater some forty years ago. So of course Winter was too young to have even been born at that time. They were both supposed to be too young.

"Well, er, yeah me too. Obviously. No, I meant, you know. The recent ones."

He didn't even know what "recent ones" he was talking about. He knew there was one trilogy shooting at the moment - or so he thought he knew - but actually, on one of their first movie nights, Steve had tricked Winter into seeing __Star Wars VI__ , pretending that he liked this one in particular and wanted to see it again - when, in fact, he hadn't seen it yet at all.

Winter seemed to have to think about it, too.

"No" he said finally. After a few seconds, he added like he felt he needed to justify it: "I don't often go to the cinema."

"Yeah, me neither."

The truth was, Steve loved going to the theater, back in the 40s. When they were kids, he and Bucky used to sneak into the cinema because they could never have afforded that many movie tickets. Sometimes, however, Bucky would buy one for himself alone or for him and Steve, just so the staff wouldn't suspect a thing. Later, Steve got to see movies way more often because of his whole being Captain America stuff. But nowadays, he just didn't feel like going there anymore. He'd go to see movies when Sam or Natasha - or even Sharon - suggested it, but he never went there alone. Alone just felt wrong.

"Anyway, it's fully loaded now. Let's play. Hey, look, we can be in the same team!"

He glanced at his roommate. Winter pressed his lips together.

"Okay."

Steve tried to hide his smile. He didn't understand why - it was only a game after all - but he knew he would have felt sad if Winter had refused to play with him.

"Let's go partner. For the Republic!"

"For the Republic!" echoed Winter and he suddenly sounded enthusiastic.

As it turned out, Winter was a terrific partner.

Steve being Steve goddamn Rogers, he just couldn't help but jump right under the enemy fire. The blonde didn't care how many times he died. It was just too much fun to run straight into the enemies and aim for their flag and basically shoot around randomly without knowing if he would even be able to touch the flag before he would lie dead on the ground. His skills (and instincts of self-preservation) weren't any better when the game would propose him to play a Jedi. Usually, he'd last two minutes before he got killed again.

Yet, it was clear that his deaths count would have been twice higher if it wouldn't have been for Winter. Winter had his back. Always. Steve offered him to play the Jedi every time they could but the brunette refuse each time. He preferred to play a sniper, whether he put his character on a strategic location or he followed Steve with a paltry gun (even then he got to kill more droids than Steve).

He was playing very seriously again - and Steve wondered if he was actually having fun.

Unlike the other game, Winter was muttering all the time and Steve caught him swearing in Russian and saying things like "please, no, we're outnumbered" or "Rogers, __please__ , you've got five at your six, I just can't".

They played far into the night and when Steve finally announced that he was going to stop there, the brunette let out a grim "gosh, that was so exhausting" that made Steve blush.

"What did you say?" he asked him.

He was going to hate himself if his friend hadn't enjoyed their evening at all.

The brunette turned to him.

"Nothing. You're going to bed?"

Steve rose and proceeded to turn off both the Play and the TV.

"Yes. I got work tomorrow." (A meeting with Fury which, he recognized in plain honesty, would totally require of him some solid hours of sleep.) "Goodnight, Winter. Take care."

Winter's eyes widened.

"You too!"

For one second, Steve got stunned because Winter sounded painful and so __terrified__. But then the brunette shook his head and his whole face looked dull again. Surely, it was the exhaustion - and probably the beating (Steve was definitely not buying that fell-off-the-stairs story).

"Yeah, well. Don't worry. See you tomorrow."

Steve went into the bathroom one last time to change his bandages - really, the Winter Soldier wasn't one to underestimate because it looked like that wound on his shoulder would take more than a day to heal which meant something given his super-healing ability.

Nevermind, Steve thought for himself, he would eventually arrest that Hydra assassin. And though he had originally moved in Brooklyn because the Winter Soldier appeared to be acting from there, Captain America wouldn't mind staying here after the mission ended.

He had grown quite fond of his roommate.


	2. Bucky's POV

SHIELD wasn't wrong. The Winter Soldier did operate from Brooklyn. The truth was, Brooklyn had been a hideout to Hydra operatives for a few years already and that was where the Soldier was sent when Pierce got his hands on him. Now, Pierce didn't want to lose his precious Asset. Thus, they decided to send him under cover so if the Avengers - or Captain America, for he was a real pain in the ass randomly discovering Hydra facilities as he went - ever stormed the place, they wouldn't find him. The Soldier would only be at the safehouse when he'd be reporting for missions. (But he also suspected it was a way to get rid of him for most of the time.)

His cover identity was a young art student looking for a flat in Brooklyn, near his university. The Soldier didn't know where he'd pitched that idea but he confusedly figured that an art student would be asked too less specific questions - than, let's say, a student in engineering - to which his limited knowledge in fields outside murdering would give him away.

Choosing both the apartment and the roommate was a hard choice to make because the Winter Soldier had to make sure he would be able to properly operate without risking the real civilians to discover the truth.

However there he was, not two visits on his first day's search; a nice flat with a common room to which was attached a kitchen island, a decent bathroom (with a bath tube that looked like it could actually fit him in entirely - sweet) and two bedrooms separated by the common room. The young man willing to share the flat was tall, blonde, had superb blue eyes and a dashing smile. He told the Winter Soldier that he was often out, would come home late (but be quiet nonetheless) and didn't have noisy hobbies (he blushed lightly when he said that he used to draw). Perfect.

"It's a deal then!" exclaimed the young man with a broad smile while reaching out his big hand (in the five or ten minutes that had lasted their very first conversation, the Winter Soldier had already figured that this guy couldn't help but smile. Unnerving.)

They shook hands.

"I'm Steve Rogers by the way. And you?"

"I'm the Winter..."

He stopped. He almost gave away his codename to a perfect stranger. What the hell. Nevermind, he had about three seconds to finish his sentence before Steve Rogers would get suspicious. Quick, a decent cover name - unfortunately he had already said something. Could "Winter" be a first name? Probably enough. Now, he only needed a last name - a really American one. For Putin's sake! The only American last names he knew of belonged to the people he was sent to kill! Well, he guessed he only had to pick one, then.

"...Kennedy."

Steve Rogers mildly frowned.

"Winter Kennedy?" he repeated and the Soldier nodded slowly. "It's a bit strange, I may admit but hey, it's cool too. Are you related to the former pres-"

"No."

The blonde shifted on his feet, looking a bit uncomfortable. The Soldier suddenly wondered if he hadn't been supposed to say that. Maybe all the Kennedys in this country were related and he just blew out his cover already?

Well, dammit, if Hydra had wanted a fine cover they shouldn't have wiped his mind so brutally last night. The Soldier was pretty sure he had forgotten a lot of useful skills for undercover in the process.

(That's not the way to do it people! You don't wipe out your best asset's skills!)

Luckily, Steve Rogers didn't seem to suspect a thing and proposed right away that they'd cook the dinner together and then eat while watching a movie.

Which was how the Winter Soldier learned that he wasn't going to escape from these roommates nights.

Stalin's boots.

Winter got up on that morning with a bloody headache and his right flank hurting like hell. It took him way too much time to remember what happened the day before and why he was suffering so much. But then it all came back to him: Captain America and his damn shield. And Cap's boots in his ribs too. That's where it hurt the most.

(Hell, that wasn't even fair. He was only supposed to escort some A.I.M guys - not even a single killing was involved - when Mister America decided that it was his business too. The guys managed to meet their Hydra contact, mostly because the Soldier stood his ground against his enemy but still. What a pain in the ass, that dude.)

The assassin put his two feet on the cold ground - the flat's heating was shitty and he had put no carpet in his room - and waited for the dizziness to fade away. He rose and left his bedroom for the kitchen island where he hoped some coffee remained.

"Hi Winter! Slept well?"

Steve was already up - his roommate was the kind of guy who, no matter what hour they'd go to bed would be up at six and running laps to stay in shape - except that he wasn't alone. There was a black dude with him. A bit of a bearded, well-built dude with a funny backpack - and when he said funny, he meant not a normal backpack. More like a superhero secret stuff kind of backpack.

Wait, his face reminded him something. Had they met yet?

"Mm." He answered in a pretty explicit way.

Steve turned to his friend.

"Sorry Sam, Winter's not a morning person."

To be honest, he was sure he wasn't a person at all. (More like a deadly weapon. A super cool, super efficient deadly weapon.)

The blonde looked back at him while putting his hand on the black dude's shoulder.

"Winter, meet Sam. He's my best friend."

"Nah Steve" said Sam winkling, "Don't get it wrong: I'm your __only__ friend. Seriously Winter, I admire you. Being his roommate? I'm not sure I would even last a day!"

"Shut up Wilson" Steve replied pretending to be offended, "I make a perfectly good roommate."

The brunette looked at the two of them taunting each other and blinked.

"Coffee?" he asked.

Steve's grin disappeared and he grimaced guiltily.

"Aw, sorry, I'm afraid we drank it all."

Winter seemed to consider that sentence for a whole second. Then he shrugged and headed for the countertop. While he put a pot of coffee to brew calmly, he grabbed a plate from the cupboard and overloaded it with pancakes - at least, Steve had made enough of them - and spread maple syrup all over them, watching the gooey liquid make its way down slowly, in a truly mesmerizing way. He barely listened to Steve and Sam talking next to the couch (why didn't they sit down?) when Steve suddenly called him.

"Winter?"

He lifted his head and looked at his friend. Steve waved shyly in the direction of both Sam and the door.

"I, er, I'm gonna go to work now. Everything will be okay?"

Again, it took him a solid second to realize Steve was waiting for an actual answer.

"Yes."

Steve's face fell with such distinct relief that Winter frowned, not sure what he had said or done right or whether it was a test or something.

"Perfect. I'll surely be gone for the whole day. So don't worry about me."

"Okay."

Winter twisted his lips upwards to make a smile. Steve smiled back with his shimmering teeth showing up. The brunette had figured that Steve liked it when he smiled after answering to what he'd said. He wasn't sure why but maybe it was because it assured him that Winter was going to do as he was told. (As if he'd ever disobey.)

"I'm gonna prep myself. Back in a sec." Steve mumbling to both and neither of them at the same time.

He disappeared into his bedroom.

Coffee was ready now. Winter took a mug and helped himself with quite an amount of it (unfitted for optimal performances but to hell with performances. His head wasn't going to be fine for the rest of the day anyway) and then headed for the couch with his plate in his other hand. He put down the plate on the little oak table in front of the TV but kept the mug in his hand and settled himself comfortably on the couch, lifting his knees to his chest.

Steve's friend was now standing barely two feet away from him. The Soldier took a quick glance - both at the man and the weird backpack. The sunglasses gave it away eventually.

Stalin's boots. That was the very Falcon standing there.

Winter's blood started rushing in his veins but he took a deep breath twice and calmed his heart rate. No need to alert the Falcon that he had recognized him. Still, why was that damn flying man doing in his and Steve's apartment?

Winter propped himself up and clenched his fingers on his mug. __Don't look at him. Pretend you don't care about him.__

"I know that look."

The brunette's gaze darted at the black man. Sam had his arms crossed on his chest and looked... pissed? No. He looked like Steve when Steve was lecturing him about stopping getting into a fight (but __Steve__ I wouldn't if they'd stop sending that damn Mister American Shield after me every single time I try to do my damn job).

"What?" he blurted, surprised by the man's statement and also by the fact that he hadn't controlled himself enough to not respond to him.

Sam went to sit on the couch, next to him - but not as close as Steve used to do.

"I know that look." He repeated. "The thousand mile stare."

His head turned to Steve's bedroom's door and then to him again.

"You didn't tell him I suppose?"

"Tell him what?"

Winter also looked in the direction of Steve's door as if Sam could see their friend or as if he could see him too and know how much more time Steve needed to be ready.

"The war."

The brunette tensed up immediately and he tucked on his left sleeve - albeit he was also wearing his black gloves thus preventing anyone from seeing that one of his hand wasn't made of flesh.

"It's okay, dude."

Sam lifted his hand surely to put it on Winter's soldier but the assassin shied away and the Falcon let his hand fell flat on the couch. He grinned sadly.

"You know, if you need help-"

"I don't need help."

Sam tilted his head and his grin deepened - though more wryly.

"Yeah, right, you don't."

The Soldier felt the utmost confusion ever. What in the name of the hammer and the sickle was even happening here. Why would the Falcon, Cap's faithful sidekick, try to help him? (And to what end?) He was acting like a shrink or something - maybe to destabilize him - and that was certainly not something Hydra had prepared him for.

Winter felt that queasy feeling making a strong comeback.

"Listen man. You don't have to feel guilty."

"I don't-" But then he snapped. "I did what they told me to do!" He exclaimed way too loudly than necessary - but Sam didn't seem affected.

"Exactly." He replied in a serious but somewhat gentle voice that made Winter continue.

"But... I didn't have a choice. They never asked me if I wanted to do these things. They couldn't care less."

Sam scooted closer to him and he didn't even flinch. Sam's voice was soothing and he felt like relaxing a bit.

"I know. I understand how you feel. Following orders without question. That's how the chain of command works, for sure. But that doesn't mean your officers didn't care about you. And above all, what you've got to remember is that you did it for your country. As much you as your officers, as a matter of fact."

Winter frowned.

"I don't think-"

But right at this instant, Steve reemerged from his room, wearing a leather brown jacket buttoned all the way up, tight navy blue pants, and a huge, square bag slung over his shoulder.

"Ready to go, Sam" he announced - then, seeing the two of them on the couch: "Sorry did I interrupt you? What were you talking about?"

Sam jumped to his feet.

"Nothing. Let's go Rogers."

However, as they were about to cross the threshold, the Falcon turned to the Soldier:

"You and me, we'll have to talk more about that, Kennedy."

And then they were out.

Finally.

Winter took a deep breath and warily uncoiled his legs. He grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. He immediately stumbled upon a Soviet era documentary.

"Oh, come on!"

He rolled his eyes and bent his head backwards. It was like the whole Universe was trying to say something to him - but he just didn't care.

After a few seconds, though, he leaned forwards and listened closely to the documentary.

When Steve returned home, Winter was on the couch, watching TV and eating dinner - an omelette. The blonde let his bag fell on the ground and the noise was loud and somewhat metallic.

"Did you just watch TV all day?" he teased the brunette.

Winter didn't answer - and didn't even shrug. Steve let out a deep sigh - Winter was too focused on the TV to look at him but by the sound of the sigh, he figured it was out of exhaustion and not because he was pissed. The blonde then grabbed his bag up again and went to his room. He changed clothes to a warm sweater and some loose sport pants and made a stop to the bathroom to wash his hands.

"I have cooked your dinner" Winter told him when he came back. "Just warm it up a little."

Steve froze for a second, surprised.

"Oh. Er, thanks, buddy."

Winter didn't reply but frowned. What was Steve even surprised of? It had been his time to cook after all - that was in their rules.

(Winter loved rules. Well, he didn't often enjoy following them but if there were rules then he knew what he had to do to not get punished. Steve was a nice guy and hence had established the rules since day one. Taking out the trash one week, cleaning the house the other, doing his own dishes after every meal, cooking for the two of them when they had planned to spend the evening together... That was the kind of rules Winter had to follow as Steve's roommate. Real simple, real easy. Nothing like those Hydra fuckers.)

Steve re-heated the omelette (out of Winter's sight, he deeply scowled at it and its undoubted outrageous quantity of herbs and berries that it contained because since the brunette had discovered their existence, he kind of abused of them) and put the slice of the carrot cake on the rim of his plate before joining his friend on the couch.

"What are we watchin'?" he asked his mouth already full.

Winter stayed quiet. Steve quickly figured out what the documentary was about, though. The old footage, those planes nosediving into US battleships... The documentary also included interviews of the kamikazes' widows. Some were proud, some were trying to hide their pain.

Steve sighed loudly.

"To think some men had sacrificed their lives like that. Like it was glorious. Or even good. It's so stupid."

Winter's eyes flashed to Steve straight away.

"Excuse me?"

The blonde gave him one of his serene smiles, the one that meant he admitted he may had been too straightforward but that he was right, after all.

"I'm not saying they were stupid, of course. I just mean, you know, theirs ideals were. I'm just sad for them because they were on the wrong side of this war so they died for nothing. But I think, maybe, if they could have been more educated, they would have seen how stupid what they were told was and they would have refused to sacrifice their lives in vain."

"That's not how it works Steve."

The blonde grinned gently again and grabbed one of the beer on the coffee table. Winter's gaze followed his hand but quickly got back to his face.

"I'm just saying" Steve said while opening the beer - without a bottle-opener but without much effort either.

"Well, you're saying bullshit, Steve."

Steve stopped and considered his friend more closely. Winter looked paler than usual - not that he ever had pinky cheeks or whatever - and there was definitively something else in his voice. Winter talked like almost never. Yet, Steve could feel a tension in his whole body and a new urge in his voice - the urge to talk.

He waited and Winter spoke.

"You don't understand, Steve" he said. "Brainwashing, propaganda... That's the same shit. You don't believe it because you want to. You believe it because there's nothing else left to believe. That's what they do. They take everything from you, everything you know, everything you love and care about. And when you've got nothing left, when you don't even know anymore who you're supposed to be or who you wanted to be then they fill you with their ideas. So when you have the opportunity to doubt them, you don't. Because that would be pointless. Because that would mean going back to a world where nothing makes sense anymore. And nobody wants that. So you don't doubt and hope you'll be naive enough to believe you're doing the right thing.

"And it's not a matter of education either. You can be the most educated shit on the planet and still do a revolution that would end up in a bloodshed. Because the moment you stop your revolution, then you admit to yourself and to everyone else that you were wrong - no, don't even try. A revolution can't be stopped; there'll always be someone to think it hasn't reached its goal yet and if you're not that person, even if you're the one who started it, then you're against it all and you're wrong. Being wrong means that one day you decided what you beliefs were going to be and then that you ended choosing the wrong ones. Nobody wants to admit they're wrong Steve. So you stay true to yourself till the end of your life and you tell yourself that because you never disavowed yourself then it __has__ to mean you're the one who was right all along.

"And that's how you end up sacrificing yourself. 'Cause, you know, it's never the bad guys that'd do something like that. So no, it's not stupid, Steve. It's sad. And terrifying."

Winter finally closed his mouth and immediately turned away, recoiling further into the couch. He could feel Steve staring at him and forced himself to look at the screen - even though he couldn't hear the sound or make sense of the images anymore over the turmoil of his own mind.

From the widows, the reporters had moved on to the children. They were all aggressively proud of their self-killed daddies.

"Still" Steve said and his voice was lower, meaning Winter's words had somewhat shaken things in his head, "I think if we could teach the kids, every kid in the world and away from any government..." His voice became loud again. "I mean seriously, they shouldn't be proud of their dad!"

Winter slammed his hand on the coffee table so hard that Steve jumped. The brunette rose and stared at his roommate.

"And __you__ shouldn't be such an asshole."

He turned away and went directly into his room. He shut the door and locked it. (He was glad that he had insisted on the locks on the first day. Not that Steve seemed to be the type of guy to sneak into people's bedrooms but he could totally picture him entering in his room to "make things right." Unnerving.)

The assassin collapsed on his bed, not even bothering to take his combat boots off. Three seconds later, Steve was already pounding on his door, calling for him and profusely apologizing. Winter pressed his palms over his eyes, moaning. Everything, __everything__ in this room reminded him of who he was - or rather, who he wasn't. A normal human being. Someone with a free will and a free mind.

The Winter Soldier wasn't buying every lies Hydra was telling him. His Russian part of his mind was certainly not Hydra and therefore proved that there was something outside Hydra. But that was it. Not all lies - but most of them. What the hell was he supposed to do with that? With no memory whatsoever of who he once may have been - except for these scattered bits from his soviet time - and with the constant threat of being punished if he didn't strictly follow Hydra's rules and Pierce's wishes, he was trapped.

The world couldn't make any sense outside of Hydra anymore.

"Winter, please! Come out! I didn't mean- I want to talk to you!"

Steve's voice became more pleading.

"Please, just tell me what I can do for you."

 _ _Go kill Captain My-Ass so I could finally do my job in peace and quiet.__

The door finally opened and as soon as Winter took a step out, Steve wrapped his ridiculous buffed arms around him. The brunette tensed at once but he had managed - as always - to keep his own arms out of the hug so that Rogers only held his torso. His eyes wouldn't leave his left arm though, because one wrong movement and Steve would discover that it was made of metal and not flesh.

But Steve parted away shortly afterwards and Winter could let his arms fall by his side.

"I'm sorry, Winter." the blonde said and he looked so damn well sorry with his wet puppy eyes (and how was Winter supposed to react to that now?)

"S'okay" the assassin replied shifting his weight on his feet.

Steve considered him for a moment.

"Can we... play video games?" he asked eventually, lightly blushing.

Winter tucked on his sleeve.

"Which one?"

The blonde grinned gleefully.

" _ _Star Wars.__ I kinda liked it when you were my teammate."

Winter looked up trying to decipher the blonde's expression. He was smiling - which could mean a lot of thing - but he was also a bit red on the cheeks. And that, for certain, meant he wanted to do it. Winter had no personal wish to play but making Steve happy was the safest way for him to keep himself from being expelled of that apartment and blowing up his cover.

"Okay" he said.

As they were setting up the game, Steve looked at him with a concern but earnest face.

"You know, if you want to talk about it-"

"Shut up Rogers" the brunette snapped. "For once in your life, focus and try not to die."

It remained a wishful thinking for Steve accomplished Steveness. But as much as a pain in the ass it was to watch his back (and get killed with him because __no__ , you don't run towards a grenade, __Steve__ ) like the first time, Winter actually realized that he didn't mind. In fact, he even caught himself smiling when Steve proudly told him that he had killed one more enemy than the number of times he had died himself.


	3. Chapter 3

That Thursday was an ordinary day.

Winter got up at twenty minutes to nine and didn't bother getting dressed. He just put on a large red sweat-shirt over his loose pajamas pants with tiny happy bears on them. However, he realized he had forgotten his gloves when he closed his bedroom's door behind him and his hand glittered under the living-room's light. He quickly shoved his left hand in his belly pocket and moved to the kitchen.

"Mm!" grunted Steve when he arrived - and he chocked on his coffee.

Winter had to wait for the blonde to swallow and put down his mug so he could make a sound more intelligible.

"Morning Winter" he then grinned.

Winter mildly smiled back and poured himself a cup of coffee too. He eyed the little buns that they had brought yesterday, waiting in the fruit basket to be picked up - unfortunately he couldn't use his other hand to get one. So he had to first lay down his mug on the counter then grab one of the pastry, settling down in front of Steve on the other side of the kitchen counter.

"I think I'll be out for the day" Steve announced.

He was lazily spinning his spoon inside his mug making a clinging sound everytime it touched the china. There was a empty plate beside his hand but full of crumbs so Winter guessed he was finishing his breakfast rather than beginning it.

"M'too" the brunette answered.

Steve grabbed his plate and his mug with both of his hands and moved around the kitchen counter to put them in the sink. He patted Winter on the back as he moved out and Winter stiffened under the touch.

"Well, then, I'm taking the bathroom for now" Steve said like he hadn't noticed - he clearly did, because he kept his arms near his body.

"Okay."

Steve left him to go take a shower and Winter continued to eat. When Steve was out of sight - and having hot water running down on his ridiculously muscular body that Winter was definitely not impressed by - he could finally get his left hand out of his pocket. That was way more convenient for making toasts than with one hand only.

He finished his breakfast and went back to his room. No shower for him - waste of time.

The brunette grabbed his phone and looked at it. He had a new message - from HYDRA obviously. He read it at a glance.

 _ _Operation Chemistry - Go.__

He looked up the time. Fourteen minutes to nine. If Steve hurried up - Winter preferred his friend to be gone before he was - he could be on his way before, let's say, half past nine. Fifteen minutes - ten if he'd quicken his pace - to reach the University. Thus: he would be there for the ten o'clock break. Just as planned.

That left him with more time than needed to check on his stuff - and get dressed.

Steve liked to take a hot shower in the morning - and before going to bed too. Maybe it was because he didn't have hot water back in the forties. (Well, they did but they wouldn't have been able to afford that amount of hot waters Steve now treated himself with his thirty minutes showers.) Or simply because of the war - and then the ice.

The blonde loved the sensation of hot water running down in his large body. Recently it surprised him more than ever - how large he was. Being back in Brooklyn, in a apartment he shared with a young man that irrepressibly reminded him of Bucky - it was harder not to wake up and think that it had all been a dream and that he wasn't simply back to his old life and his old skinny body.

However, Winter might want to take a shower too so Steve eventually exited the bathtub. He opened the room's door on his side of the apartment and hurried brushing his teeth and combing his short hair. Then he unlocked the other door, grabbed his stuff and retired in his room.

Steve's bedroom wasn't as personalized as Steve (but especially Sam) thought it ought to be. He had hung up some old posters - or vintage posters - on the walls, a __Star Wars__ calendar - he really did appreciate that franchise - some of his old drawings and even a few of his recent ones, though he regretted he couldn't have more leisure time to draw more (maybe he should talk to Winter about drawing together on a planned schedule? That could motivate the two of them). The military habits not dying easily, his bed was always perfectly tidy, no clothes on the floor either or piling up on his desk chair. Everything was right where it belonged - and it gave the room an even more impression of emptiness.

Steve shook his head and those ideas away and opened his closet. His uniform hung right in front of him, not as shiny as the one he wore during the Chitauri's invasion but still unmistakable. Actually, Steve liked this one better. It was a real combat suit - not just flashy spandex - and very comfortable too. He got dressed in a eye blink and grabbed his iconic shield. He weighted it as he always did, enjoying the feeling. Good old shield.

He opened his door and peeked at the living-room.

"Winter? I'm leaving!" he called his roommate.

The answer came right away - only muffled by Winter's own closed door.

"Okay."

Steve strengthened his grip on his shield and was ready to exit his room when he suddenly heard his friend's voice once more.

"Have fun."

It was shyer and in an awkward way that made Steve smiled fondly. He knew his roommate had some social issues but he was also so decidedly working on them.

(At the beginning, Winter didn't even answer at all, not even when Steve asked him about his day or if he had slept well. He only stared at him for a few minutes before minding his own business in silence. It was kind of hurtful for Steve at first, before he realized Winter didn't hate him but just had trouble connecting with others.)

Steve didn't know if it was because of him that Winter was more open now (he wished it was) but he was glad of it nonetheless. And as he crossed the living-room and left the apartment as fast as he could (he had to avoid Winter seeing him in his Captain America uniform) he kept smiling gleefully.

Winter heard the front door closing and knew he only needed to wait a few more minutes before he could leave too. He checked his gear one last time. The straps were tight on his chest, nearly hindering him from breathing normally - but tightness meant efficiency or that was what his handlers had told him - his knives were all inside their sheaths and he hadn't forgotten his guns - one attached on his back and one on his belt. He put on his biggest sweat-shirt and looked on his mirror to check his appearance. The sweet-shirt hid all his weapons and cargo pants along with combat boots weren't that odd amongst students - especially arts students because they were the oddest, right?

He closed his black guitar case that contained his sniper gun and finally left home, locking up the front door and stowed the key in one of his pockets, beside his phone. He closed his hands on the straps of the guitar case and started walking towards "his" university.

The whole campus was already crowded when he arrived. He checked the time but it wasn't ten yet. So, there was just half the students laying on the grass despite the weather getting colder each day. Did these students ever go to class or university was just an excuse to keep hanging with their friends after high school? Winter shook his head. He didn't get it at all and that was none of his problem. He wasn't even a real student after all - he didn't take his cover that far.

He crossed the lawns, heading for the science buildings - more specifically the Astronomy one. He knew where the fire escape was - he had studied the blueprints for the past weeks - and where to settle once he was on the roof. He took off his sweat-shirt and opened the rigid black case he had carried on his back (he had been stopped twice because of it - girls who genuinely thought he had brought a guitar and wanted to hear him - hell no), sighing when his eyes fell on his beloved riffle. (HYDRA gave it to him on his first mission for them and he would be very sad if them wanted to take it back.) He put all the parts together as would a flutist do with the three parts of their instrument and moved towards the roof's edge. He carefully settled the gun and looked through its visor. Wrong window. He lifted his head to identify which window he was supposed to be aiming at on the building across the lawn - the Chemistry building. Then he adjusted his weapon and looked again. Perfect. Now, if his intel was correct, Mr. Ollins would -

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Dammit! Who the hell could it be? Winter had literally three contacts on his phone. Steve - because of obvious reasons, Sam - who actually gave nice life advice when he wasn't busy being mean to everyone (Winter didn't know why he did that but once, he replied "well people prefer white bread to burnt bread you know" when Sam had said something about how pale he looked and the black man just looked at him stunned before bursting out laughing and congratulating him which made Winter even more confused) - and his emergency contact at HYDRA for - well, emergency - extraction (thought Winter suspected he wouldn't like said extraction). The rest of the time, HYDRA used masked and ever-new numbers to give him his orders. So maybe that was them - but it was weird because he had just received a text in the morning. Did something happened?

Winter sighed and stirred on the roof because __of course__ his phone was on his front pocket and he was laying on his belly. But finally he managed to get it out and looked up. It wasn't a text from HYDRA at all. It was from Steve. Winter scowled as he pressed on the screen to open the text app - but then a smile blossomed on his face without him even having time to think about it.

The text was actually a picture of Steve. A selfie, more precisely. He had a leather jacket buttoned all the way up on him - Winter had never seen that one before, maybe it was a new one, really similar to Sam's - and was smiling before a bakery. There was also a short text underneath the picture.

 _ _This bakery is very good! We should go there one day! ;) Steve.__

Winter bit his lips. He turned off his phone but didn't put it back inside his pocket - rather he mindlessly spun it between his fingers. He tilted his head and looked through his riffle's visor. The target was yet to be in position. Three more minutes, according to his calculation. Maybe he had time to write something back to Steve...?

Oh, to hell with that! He knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate if he didn't reply to him.

He rose up and looked around. The place didn't look great for a picture. He promptly put back on his sweat-shirt and jumped down - rather than climbed down - the fire exit. At that time of the day, he Astronomy building was casting a shadow where he was standing - of course, because otherwise he would never have chosen that fire exit to access the rooftops in the first place - so he had to walk a bit, towards the Chemistry building and onto the spots of lawn that separated the two of them.

The brunette saw a nice oak tree. He leaned on the back of a bench and raised his phone. He knew how to do it. He snapped the picture and examined it. His face was on the bottom left side, taking one quarter of the whole thing. The oak tree and the lawns and a bit of the Chemistry building could be seen in the background. His finger hovered over the "send" button but then he frowned and decided to take another one. The second shot was identical to the first one except that Winter had poked his hand at the bottom, making the V gesture - he had heard that was a common thing to do on a picture for young people. Now, it was perfect.

The assassin hurried to the roof again and nearly threw himself on the cold, hard ground near his riffle. The target was in position. Winter sent the picture and added a text too - " _ _Chilling out on the campus.__ " - and discarded his phone to grab his weapon.

His brain got immediately focused on his mission. His breath steadied and his mind turned blank. Mr. Ollins had grabbed his cup of tea and was loosely leaning on the wall and peeking out of the window. His favorite position - and his favorite activity at every ten o'clock breaks on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday. Winter grinned wickedly. He loved shooting officials - or civvies as a matter of fact. You always knew where they would be. One week of surveillance - two weeks tops - and you had their whole daily pattern. Their whole life pattern. Mr. Ollins was always drinking his tea and standing near this window on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday because these were the days he taught a class on the room 112 from nine to eleven, across that very room Winter was now looking at. At the ten o'clock break, he would go to that room which was empty except for him at that time and looked outside the window, offering himself as a rather neat target.

Through his visor, Winter could see him almost as clearly as if he was standing next to him. His eyes, although on a very old wrinkled face - were so kind there was no doubt he loved each and every one of his students. Probably he was one of the students' favorite teacher too. Too bad HYDRA wanted to replace him with a professor of their own - Mr. Kong, a tall dry man but with a warm voice that would surely lure some students into HYDRA within the next week. Too bad but none of his business.

The Soldier took the shot.

Steve rushed through the living-room, lest that Winter would see him in his Captain America suit. He closed the front door behind him and jumped over the railing. He fell from the fifth floor during one second before the Falcon seized him by his wrists.

"Oh my __god__ " grunted Sam. "Did you take two breakfasts today?"

Steve grinned at him and didn't answer, looking back at his apartment that looked smaller and smaller as they rose into the air.

"Also, you know you don't need to throw yourself out of the roof so I could catch you, right? I'm here precisely to pick you up man."

This time, Steve lifted his head to meet Sam's disapproving look.

"Sorry. Way more fun that way."

They had finally reached the Quinjet that was waiting for them. As soon as they got inside, the bridge closed and the aeroplane activated its camouflage. Steve took off his blue helmet to catch a breath.

"Morning Nat!" he yelling cheerfully at the pilot.

The redhead turned briefly to them.

"Hello Rogers."

The blonde came to sit next to her and Sam leaned over his seat. Natasha started briefing them way more quickly than Nick Fury would have done - which was why Steve let Nat go to Fury's briefings alone (and Nat was very angry at him for that because thank you very much Rogers I love having Nick pestering me about how you threw yourself in danger and I should babysit you better than this).

Today's mission was easy: watch, locate, retrieve.

"Any more details available?" Steve asked.

Nat grinned at him.

"Watch a store, locate the A.I.M. guys going in there, retrieve that weapon they had stolen from Tony yesterday."

"Wait" said Sam, "they stole one of Tony's weapons? So why are we on this? Can't the man handle himself?"

The ex-Russian spy had her eyes locked on the windscreen as she was beginning to land the Quinjet on the roof of a very large, red-brick factory of cigarettes.

"Well, actually, Tony doesn't really know about that."

She unlocked her seat belt and rose up. Steve arched one eyebrow.

"What do you mean, not really?"

The redhead was already on the back of the plane.

"Means he doesn't know he got that weapon. A nice gift when half your company was ruled by a evil man, I guess. Anyway, he's out of the country for the moment so SHIELD got this."

She put her hands on her hips.

"Are you coming or what?"

Steve glanced at Sam - they both didn't like that at all. Nevertheless, the excitation took over as they started their mission. Natasha put on a fake blonde wig and a white long tight dress that went from the top of her neck to her ankles and completely covered her arms too. As she put on gigantic triangle sunglasses, she told Sam his role - watching their backs from above - and Sam took off.

"What am I supposed to do?" asked Steve almost teasingly because if Nat was the best spy on their team, she never wanted to be their leader and even if she didn't show it, she was always reluctant to give Steve orders.

"As usual. You're taking me on a date" she replied, pointing at Sam's jacket.

Steve sighed but eventually laughed a little. He grabbed the jacket and put his shield on his back and then they left the Quinjet for the streets.

Captain America wasn't exactly discrete but that wasn't exactly the plan either. Natasha swiftly disappeared inside the crowd and if Steve hadn't know where to look and who to look, he might not have found her at the terrace of a cosy bakery. The humble shop was all in warm colors, comfy pink with yellow suns and specks of kind blue around the windows. More importantly, it was facing the hardware store SHIELD believed was a cover for some A.I.M. agents. According to their intel, the weapon should end in this store before the end of the day - and before it could be taken to an A.I.M. facility. As the weapon was highly dangerous, Cap's team had orders to retrieve the weapon only and not try to infiltrate that facility.

"Relax. We may be here for a long time" said Natasha in Steve's back.

Nat was sitting at one of the terrace's table with a newspaper wide open in front of her, hiding half her face - her large pink hat covering the other half. She was disdainfully chewing on a gum and from an exterior viewer, there was no difference between that chewing and when she talked.

Steve sat in her back, at an another table, his shield leaned against his chair at his feet and the jacket over the back of his chair. The plan was not for Steve to avoid being spotted. In fact, if a scientist from A.I.M. spotted him, he would chase him right away and through the city so that A.I.M. would think they had lured Captain America away from their business.

Steve couldn't looked away from the store. Nat told him to stop being that obvious so he got his phone out and played with it instead. At this moment, the waitress also returned and put a coffee and a plate of pastries in front of him. He thanked her and she left with a swift movement of her hips - she might have been in her late thirties but Steve could have bet she would later call her friends and told them with the enthusiasm of a fifteen years old girl how she served __Captain America, yeah at my job, Captain America came to my job, isn't that the coolest thing ever?__

The blonde ate the pastries without thinking at first but soon, he realized he was eating them with an openly great appetite.

"Enjoying the mission Rogers?" Nat asked and he could almost feel her little grin.

"This is so unfair, guys" chimed in Sam through their earbuds.

"Aw, we'll save you some, don't worry little bird" Nat told him.

Steve glanced at the store. A father with his daughter had just got out from there but they weren't from A.I.M. - well, as far as he could tell. The store was a real one, after all, so real non-undercover people went inside.

"Anything yet?" he asked Sam.

"Nothing."

Back to waiting. Steve had such an hard time not doing something, especially when he was supposed to be on a mission. Quite frankly, this was not was he was expecting when he let Fury dragged him into SHIELD after the New York attack. The worst thing was, his team couldn't understand his frustration. Nat was a spy at core and Sam adapted quickly to Peggy and Howard's organization - sometimes Steve wondered if he would have accepted Fury's offer if SHIELD hadn't been founded by Peggy.

He looked down at his plate now nearly empty and started tearing his croissant into bits and putting only the crumbs inside his mouth. Suddenly, he got an idea.

"Don't worry" he told Nat when he rose up.

He put on Sam's jacket and took a few steps on the street. As he watched for the cars, he took his phone out and opened the camera. He made sure the bakery's name was - at least partly - on the picture and took a selfie.

He went back to his place and send the picture to Winter. He thought about going back here with him this week-end. Or maybe, he could go back on his own tomorrow - even this afternoon if they wrapped up mission before the shop closed - and buy a few pastry for their breakfast. Winter seemed to love pastries and Steve could only noticed how much he was willing to do just to see him smile.

"Cap, heads up" said Nat, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He looked up and saw a man staring at across the streets. But not the "wow there's Captain America over there!" kind of stare. At the same time, their earbuds buzzed as the Falcon warned them:

"There's a truck coming your way. Front plate missing and back plate... Matches a stolen vehicle."

"Let's get that party started" said the redhead soberly while folding up her newspaper.

Cap grabbed his shield.

The sun was slackly waning behind the city's skyscrapers, flooding their flat with dim orange light. They were finishing their dinner, Winter sitting cross-legged on the couch and on his right, Steve with his legs resting on the coffee table - way too close to the oil bottle, in Winter's opinion. They weren't watching a movie or anything else on TV because when Steve got home, he found Winter playing at __Star Wars Battlefront II__ and immediately and joyfully joined him until they noticed the time. They paused the game for the duration of their dinner.

"So, how was university today?" Steve asked. "Did anything interesting?"

Winter used his fork to gather his grains of rice scattered all over his plate. He shrugged.

"I just did what I had to. But I... I'm proud. I think I did all right."

"Really?"

Steve had straightened his position on the couch and put his two feet back on the floor. He looked so happy Winter blushed.

"Yeah, well, you know. It was easy but still. I got it done with precision."

The blonde winced.

"Precision. I think I lack this. I prefer to launch myself in and hell if it's not perfect at first, I'll just go back and just do it 'till I like the result. You could say it's a bit messy, yeah."

Winter frowned but he sat up too.

"I prefer to think it all through beforehand."

He put down his plate on the coffee table and shoved his hands inside his hoodie's pockets. His face became more animated and even inside his pockets, his hands were restless.

"I prefer precision. I know I'm not doing it for me-"

"How's that? That's your life."

"Yes, but I was asked to do it."

"Oh, you mean- Yes, of course, nevermind."

"The thing is, I like this feeling. You look at your objective, you want to know everything about it. You want to be precise and quick - and proper. Proper is important to me. I don't really like it when it got spread everywhere. It's messy. And uncalled for, really. I prefer my way. You calm yourself, breath in, breath out and do it. Everything around you becomes irrelevant. You don't even think anymore. You don't need to. 'Cause your fingers know their way, y'know? And your brain too. No need to ask yourself if you know how to do this. You do it. It's fast and precise and proper. And then you lift you head and you can look at your good work."

"You were really proud of what you did today" noticed Steve, impressed - no wonder anymore why Winter was an art student; there was so much passion in his words.

"Nah. Told you: it was easy today. Like basic easy. Like the kind of exercise you could do anytime anywhere and that's almost insulting too, I guess, but at the same time-"

"It's nice because it's simple and you don't have to think much about it."

Winter smiled broadly.

"Yeah, exactly."

He took back his plate to finish the rice and the two vegetables he had forgotten.

"How was your day?" he asked Steve.

The blonde sighed loudly and thought about the attack, the A.I.M. guy he started chasing before he realized he had one helluva gun with him and how Nat and Sam stormed the hardware store and the storekeeper who they think had nothing to do with A.I.M. had actually been waiting for them with three others guys and they too had a helluva guns and really, if Cap's team didn't think once there was a chance they wouldn't be able to make it alive, they did got the frights at the thought the weapon might slip away from them - it didn't and they didn't destroy half the block either so close one but mission perfectly accomplished nonetheless.

"A bit hard, too. Like you actually: it was supposed to be easy but we almost made a bit of a mess."

"Your fault?"

"Hey!" scowled Steve as if he was offended.

Winter shrugged but he could see his little wicked grin - the same one as Nat, in a way. The blonde shook his head and lightly hit his friend in his shoulder.

"Well I hope your teachers were satisfied with what you did today."

Winter thought about Mr. Kong and the HYDRA operatives that usually dealt with him. His smile broadened.

"Oh they are. For sure."

He hadn't had the debriefing yet but it had received a text in the afternoon - _"_ _ _Good job. Stand down. Further instructions soon."__ \- that clearly meant he wasn't going to be put on the chair or punished in an another way for now.

Steve grabbed the two game pads and handed one to him.

"Then, let's celebrate that by destroying some clones, all right soldier?"

The assassin accepted the pad with a grin.

"Yes, sir."


	4. Chapter 4

The fight started in a bad way for Captain America. As a consequence, the fight started in a really good way for the Winter Soldier.

Usually, Cap would run into the Soldier, out of nowhere and preferably when he was already in the middle of another mission. But that time, the Soldier had lured Cap inside an old fabric, confined within a shady neighbourhood with tall buildings and tight spaces between them; no way a SHIELD helicopter or Quinjet or whatever else could land near them to provide back-up to Mr. America-My-Ass. Thus the Soldier felt confident.

The confidence didn't last long, though. Captain America wasn't just a pumped up fellow with extra ridiculous muscle under a too-tight suit and with an equally ridiculous colorful Frisbee. He was an honest-to-God true fighter and his shield was no less dangerous than his fists alone. Guns wouldn't stop him; soon the Soldier had to resort to knives alone. But Cap wasn't as naive as he might have been for their first two or three fights. He kicked or punched or slammed away his knives with his shield.

The Soldier started running out of knives.

No backup for Cap equaled no backup for him either - Hydra wasn't so fond of giving their Asset anything more - let alone anyone. The Soldier began to think he might not win this fight. That is, until Cap had him pinned against a wall and was tearing his arm apart with his shield - __then he was sure of it__.

The shield was almost cutting all the way through his metal arm, one inch above his elbow - and Cap was pressing on it with all his weight. The wires connected to his veins and then his neurons went all nuts, frying his brain in the process. The pain was unbearable.

"Please, give up" said Captain America.

As always, his voice was full of righteousness and self-confidence and __oh that so despicable__ American sentiment of superiority.

The Soldier clamped his right hand on the shield's edge - and tried to push it away.

"Not... gonna... happen!"

Suddenly, he delivered a superb kick in Cap's lower abdomen. Cap stumbled back from the pain recoiling on himself and he took advantage of it to finally toss the shield away from them both. He looked down at his arm; the lost wired/neural connections were still driving him mad and he couldn't even move his fingers. His arm was useless. Worse: it was a dead weight. And he certainly didn't need one of those.

The Soldier eyed a dark alley beyond a stained glass that would surely be desert. He jumped, crashed through the window and into the alley. A hurtful groan left him as he landed brutally on the solid concrete. He pressed his broken arm against his stomach and started running.

Captain America didn't follow him.

Winter arrived at their apartment panting and sweating and absolutely ready to black out right here and now on the threshold. Still, he somehow managed to take his key out of his pocket and stepped inside their home. The familiar view of the living-room - the TV and their yellow couch with a empty mug on the coffee table - Steve must have left in a hurry because otherwise he wouldn't have left it there - soothed him and he felt more relaxed.

He tottered inside his bedroom and reached out for his green hoodie. He put it on, taking extra care with his left arm and then went back to the living-room where he collapsed on the couch. He really didn't know what do to next - and the continuous ache in his head wasn't helpful. He figured that his roommate would soon be home so he wiped away his combat kohl around his eyes with his sleeve and shoved his mask in his hoodie's belly pocket. He also retrieved his elastic from it but he wasn't going to tie his hair with only one hand so the elastic remained around his wrist. He curled up on the couch, dragging his knees to his chest and resting his forehead on them, trying to take long breath to calm him down.

The front door opened twenty-three minutes later.

"I'm hom- Winter?!"

Steve let his bag slip from his hand and crash on the floor with a loud thunk - Winter had seen his bag a few times already and he had wondered since then what the hell Steve could possibly stuff inside it to make it that heavy - and ran to the couch.

"Winter! What happened? What did you- Oh my God, look at you!"

Steve gently brushed his thumb over his bruised cheekbone and his red cut above his eyebrow, looking as sorry as he ever saw him.

Winter shrugged - then winced at it sent a blast of pain inside his head.

"S'nothin'. I'm- I'm fine. Promise."

But his roommate was shaking his head resolutely.

"Winter, you are __not__ fine."

The blonde took a step back to consider his whole appearance. Winter remembered he hadn't taken off his pants and as unlikely it would be for Steve to know what the Winter Soldier's pants actually look like (or to even be aware of his existence at all) he had still two guns and a knife stowed somewhere in them that could be discovered at any moment. And that, coming from an art student, would definitely raise some questions.

"Let me see this."

With a firm grip, Steve pulled at his hoodie obviously to take it off. Winter instantly recoiled even further into the couch and even kicked Steve in the stomach. That was a mistake. He watched with horror as the blonde got pushed away, tripped on the coffee table and nearly fell on the floor. Winter froze in dread.

But Steve stood up and held his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Winter."

His bluest eyes was locked on him but he wasn't frowning or showing any expression that meant he intended to punish him for his rebellious act. Weird. (Could be a trap.)

"Calm down."

Even if it was a direct order, the brunette couldn't comply. He slowly shook his head.

"Can't" he muttered.

Steve frowned - but didn't move in his direction.

"Why?" he asked with a concerned and softer voice.

Winter stared at him briefly.

"It hurts."

He didn't plan on saying this. He didn't plan to admit his weakness to his roommate. Never show weakness - that was the first rule ever. Never admit you're in pain because - according to his experience - that would only make the handler more desirous to increase said pain.

His throat tightened as Steve knelt before him and put his hand on the armrest, right next to him. Winter's eyes flicked from his hand to his face again.

"Where? Where does it hurt Winter?"

Winter looked down at his metal arm that he was still pressing against his stomach in the vain hope that it would stop the wires from short-circuiting his brain relentlessly.

"What happened?" Steve asked when he didn't get an answer to his first question.

Winter shook his head again.

"Can't tell."

The blonde nodded as if he understood.

"Okay, well."

He rose up and reached out his hand to him.

"I'm taking you to an hospital."

Winter's eyes widened.

"What? No! No, you can't!"

"Winter" said Steve impatiently, " _ _you're in pain__. You need to see a doctor. There's an hospital not three blocks away. I'm taking you there."

Winter kept shaking his head but there was nowhere he could flee to. Still, he knew he didn't need a doctor. He needed a technician. The one at the Hydra's safehouse would definitely know how to fix him.

(But he didn't want to go the safehouse. He didn't like it there. They were all afraid of him so they all wanted to hurt him. Going in with an half-broken arm? No way. He could fix it up by himself. He knew he could.)

He shifted his body a little and the electric shock than ensued in his brain sent stars dancing in front of him and left his whole body numb and exhausted.

Okay. Maybe he couldn't.

"All right. I'll go."

Steve sighed - maybe with relief - and helped him got back on his feet. When they were about to cross the threshold, Winter tried one last time to talk Steve out from accompanying him but the stare he got in return shut him up for good.

The hospital wasn't far away - Steve had been right on this point. But the walk seemed to last an eternity. Even thought his body was burning from inside, the freezing wind blowing that night was sending shivers all over his spine and making him feel like he was about to get iced one again. Every step was hurtful too and he stumbled more than he walked for he couldn't feel his legs anymore.

But Steve was there.

He carried him all the way, walking by his right, his hand on his wrist as he knew for a while now that his friend didn't like it when he touched his shoulders. When they arrived at the hospital, he wanted to step inside too and wait for Winter on the entry hall but the brunette refused right away.

"I'll be fine" he told his roommate.

As the blonde began sulking, he got an idea. He leaned forward and pressed his lips together in a pouting manner - one of Steve's weaknesses he had figured - and pleaded in a perfectly innocent voice:

"I'll want a hot chocolate when I got home."

That might have been the only thing able to send Steve Rogers home. Having him do something for someone else. The blonde stepped closer to him and cupped his chin in his hand - they were so close, they actually realized that Winter wasn't an inch smaller than Steve, only thinner (and that was where that wrong impression came from).

"Okay. I'll get everything ready for you when you get back. But text me when you're out of here."

"I will."

With one last longing stare that Winter couldn't quite decipher, Steve parted and turned back. Winter watched him for a few seconds then entered the building. With a sideways glance, he noticed that his roommate had indeed turned again to be sure he was inside the hospial. Winter waited ten minutes and then left.

The safehouse was halfway between their home and the hospital. The trip to it took forever too but Winter didn't feel like he could collapse at any moment anymore. Either his supersoldier's healing had already started to replace his dead brain cells with non-yet-fried ones or he had grown used to the pain. Either way, he just felt more aware than ever of his miserable situation. He wanted Steve by his side so bad. But all he was getting was Hydra.

Before he entered the safehouse, he checked that his phone had been turned off since the hospital (it had) and then knocked on the door using the secret and correct rhythm. The door opened and he was led into a dark, small room with only one chair and a thin metallic shaky table on which stood a lamp that blinded him immediately. He sat down and when the door got closed behind him, he saw the two officers in charge of him across the table.

"Mission report, soldat."

Winter sighed pitifully.

"Please, my arm needs fixin'. It hurts..."

"Mission report" the man repeated as if he hadn't hear.

" _ _Please.__ It hurts."

The officer slammed his hand on the table almost sending the lamp on the floor. Winter jumped.

"Mission report, soldat!"

Winter stared at the officer's hand for a moment with wide eyes. Then his stare went blank and all his features fell into a mask of general indifference. With a dull voice, he told his handlers about the fight that had happened earlier. How he successfully led Captain America into his trap. But how - unfortunately - he was not match for his enemy. He narrated how Captain America nearly split his arm in two as a surgeon would narrate the process of his operation. Precisely. Concisely.

Properly.

When he was finally done, the officers called in three soldiers who escorted him to the lab. No operation table. Only the chair. He took off his clothes - his hoodie along with his combat gear and he climbed on it. He watched without seeing as the Hydra soldiers strapped him tightly on it, leaving only his left arm unrestrained. The technician took his chair and his rolling table with his tools to him and started to operate.

No anesthesia.

The pain was so vivid, so blinding that it brought Winter back. And he screamed. He wore his lungs down screaming because the straps - they were so tight he couldn't even move his ankle or his wrist and he wished he could have, he wished they'd allowed him to wriggle and struggle and release the pain through the agitation of the rest of his body, he wished they would have been __kind__ to him in some way - because there was nothing he could do but scream. And scream, scream, __scream__.

Scream in a brightly-lit room with a technician cutting through the wires inside his arm and the soldiers with their rifle all around the whole place and the others doctors watching him with a cruel curiosity.

He screamed for death.

When they were finally done with him and had released him, he found himself so exhausted and worn out that he only managed a couple of steps before collapsing on the hard ground. He took him several minutes to come to his senses again. He tucked on his hoodie to help it fit better over his combat gear and fumbled in his pocket for his phone. He was too close of the safehouse, though. He had to walk back to the hospital before he could safely turn it on again. Then he sent a quick text to Steve - __Coming home.__ \- and started heading for his apartment. Home.

As expected, Steve had been waiting for him. He didn't know how long he was gone and tried not to show surprise when he realized the operation had lasted over three hours. (To him it had been an endless series of blacking out and waking up and going back again because of the pain but time always seemed to last longer than it really did in these moments.) But to be honest Steve himself didn't think that was surprising.

When he opened the front door, the blonde jumped to his feet and dashed to him and hugged him so tightly - and warmly - that Winter had tears coming up in his eyes.

"Welcome back" Steve murmured softly.

He then led him to the couch, helped him sit down and disappeared to the kitchen island. He came back not long afterwards with a hot chocolate and a chocolate cake that he had obviously cooked while Winter was gone.

"Hope it's edible" the blonde chuckled. "It's been a long time since I had made that one. It was my mom's recipe" he added, blushing.

Winter took a bit of it under the intense stare of his roommate - and melted. To be true, it was fucking good. But what made it the absolute best was that feeling he got when his mouth got filled with it. That feeling of being home. As if he hadn't eaten that particular cake in a really, really long time. And that, too, brought tears to his eyes. He quickly wiped them away with his sleeve.

"So... How are you feeling? Better?"

"Yeah."

Steve rose back in a brisk movement - he couldn't seem to settle between siting up or pacing the room.

"I probably have some painkillers somewhere. Do you want me to-?"

"M'fine."

The blonde sat back, really stiff, as if Winter had knocked the air out of him. Yet, he didn't remain quiet very long.

"Can I comb your hair?" he blurted.

Winter stared at him blankly and blinked a few times.

"Wha-?"

Steve lifted his hand and gently pulled back one of his strands behind his ear.

"Your hair. It's a mess. Can I comb it?"

Winter didn't know how to reply. Hell, he didn't even know how he felt about that. But Steve was taking care of him right now and obviously, he was thinking about it as another way to take care of him - like the chocolate cake. So why not?

"F'you want" he replied warily but not shyly.

Steve smiled and rose up. He went to the bathroom and came back with a long black comb. (Winter raised an eyebrow; he usually used a hairbrush because he thought that was the quickest way.)

His roommate went behind him and leaned on the back of the couch. The brunette sat up, his feet on the ground and his palms on his laps waiting perfectly still. His heart was beating a bit fast but he tried to calm down. The man wasn't going to hurt him.

Steve wasn't going to hurt him.

The blonde commenced by gathering the strands hanging before his eyes. Winter flinched when his fingertips brushed against his forehead. Then he actually starting combing his hair. He took one strand between his fingers and patiently worked the comb down it until he had untied all the knots.

Without realizing it, Winter began to relax. He sat askew on the couch so he could cross his arms on its edge and rest his chin on them. Steve's belly was less than a few inches from his face and he felt the sudden urge to lean his head on this belly. He uncoiled one of his arm and tugged on Steve's shirt so as to pull him closer. Steve got the message and moved closer. Winter put his cheek on the fabric of Steve's blue shirt and closed his eyes, focusing on both the warm feeling and the blonde breathing in and out. It was a soothing rhythm to follow. And Steve's fingers were still running through his hair now completely untangled - shouldn't he have stopped by now? Winter couldn't figure out why he hadn't but he felt his chest tightened at the idea of Steve stepping away. __Just a little bit more, please.__

"Everything's gonna be fine, Winter. Don't worry. I'm here."

It almost seemed like Steve could hear his thoughts. His voice was so smooth and so kind. It was as if his voice alone could make his whole operation from earlier get forgotten forever. Better than the chair.

Eventually, Winter dozed off. He jolted back up when his primary survival instincts took over thus managing to stay awake long enough for him to go back to his bedroom - after Steve had let go of him and wished him a good night - and to take off his hoodie and his whole combat gear. He even successfully got into his pajamas. The moment his head hit the pillow, thought, he was already asleep.

On the morning after that, he woke up to find Steve pushing the couch against the door in a way that clearly prevented both of them to leave the apartment. (With wasn't a pleasant thought so soon in the morning - he hated being trapped somewhere.) The blonde had also nudged the coffee table in a corner of the room so that the living-room was one big empty space.

"Oh hi Winter!" he exclaimed when he noticed the blank stare of his friend. "Did you sleep well? How's your arm today?"

The brunette mildly shrugged.

"Fine."

He decided that he needed eating before he could question his roommate - luckily, there was plenty of the chocolate cake left from yesterday.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked while shoving one quarter of the cake in his mouth - God, had that thing gotten even better since the previous evening?

Steve put his hands on his hips and offered him a beaming smile.

"To give us some space for our training."

"Training?"

Well, then. Sounds like he also needed coffee. (Steve always made coffee for two; it wasn't even tepid. Good.)

Meanwhile, his roommate had come to lean against the kitchen counter and was staring at him with his excited puppy eyes - and if Winter had ever learned anything about Steve Rogers, this was nowhere near a good omen.

"Listen. I thought about it a lot and I- I can't just stay put while you're getting beating up like that. No, listen I said!"

Winter stopped groaning and looked up at his roommate between his dark hair, trying to figure out the hell he meant before Steve could even explained his idea to him.

"I want to train you. Help you defend yourself - if you won't accept my help directly. I mean, obviously, I won't have you fight me today. Just show you some moves, okay?"

His adorable puppy eyes. Why the hell did Winter felt suddenly so funny in his stomach watching that pair of eyes staring at him? He couldn't think straight anymore. But surely, he could always use some more training.

"Okay."

"Awesome!"

Steve actually achieved to wait till the brunette had finished his breakfast - but Winter had already accepted the fact that he wasn't going to take a shower for now.

They settled themselves in the middle of the living-room. First, Steve decided to show him how to kick someone at shoulder-high. Of course, he stopped himself long before he could have actually touched him but Winter had already raised his hand to grab his leg out of his combat reflexes. Remembering that his roommate had clearly stipulated he was only to show him moves, he started to panic but then he noticed the sparkles in Steve's look. The blonde tried another move, as slow as the first one, but he didn't stop and let Winter adjust his position in order to block him more effectively. Steve smiled again and tried something else. Winter was starting to feel excited too. That was more fun than defeating dozens of barely trained Hydra canon-powder.

And definitively way more fun than fighting that utter jerk of Captain America.


	5. Bonus chapter

****March 10th****

When Winter woke up that day, he immediately noticed that something wasn't right in his mind. After a few seconds, he understood that he was having mixed feeling of happiness and sadness. No - let's rephrase this. After a few seconds, he realized he was having mixed feeling of "mission went perfectly" and "Steve doesn't want to talk to me." (To be fair, Steve __never__ got so mad he would refuse to talk to him but that was exactly what came to his mind when he thought about "sadness.")

Shortly put, that was fucked up.

"Winter? You okay?"

The brunette blinked and realized he had been standing in front of the open fridge for more than six point eight minutes. Too much for a normal, totally not-assassin, art student. __Way__ too much for the best and deadliest asset within HYDRA - get it together Soldier! It was nothing more than getting some energy to fuel the body!

Still, the mixed feeling of happiness and sadness were no strangers to why he could only frown at the food without picking anything.

"I think..." he said, not minding the fact he was literally spitting his thoughts out loud, "I want something sweet."

At these words, Steve immediately jumped on his feet from the couch.

"I heard there's a new bakery not far from here! Well, actually, I think it's more like a tea bar or something? Anyway, do you want to try it?"

Winter mulled over the idea for a bit. It was early, probably cold outside, he hadn't had his coffee yet and he was still in his pajamas pants (Steve, on the other hand, was already fully dressed - but that was because he had just returned from his morning jog). But, if that could ease the sadness feeling for the benefit of the happiness one, Winter was more than eager to try it.

Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting inside the "Tea Party Pony" (don't even ask), near its large shop window. The tea was good, the pastries were delicious and Steve was cute, looking all around him (should he mention that the place was most comfy too? There were large padded armchairs, delicate wooden one-legged table, peaceful paintings on the walls and somewhere in the background, relaxing Asian music) and saying whatever came to his mind. It was things like:

"Don't you think that pink teapot is pretty?"

Or:

"Damn, you should really try that raspberry-cheesecake, it's so good!"

By the time Winter had eaten enough to consider their little trip to a teashop could count as a proper breakfast, he was glad to inspect himself and find that the sadness feeling had withered.

However, as soon as they got back into the apartment, it came back, strong as before.

It was as if there was nothing he could do about it. That was frustrating because the Soldier should know better and control his emotions better. At the same time, there was that happiness feeling he certainly didn't want to give up. If only he could know where the two of them were coming from then he'd certainly be able to erase the sadness one for good!

But he didn't and he was pacing the room like a lion in his cage or a frustrated cat, looking for a non-existent cat tree and starting to gaze longingly at the curtains. Steve was sprawled on the couch, reading a biography of Amelia Earhart but he hadn't read ten pages yet due to how many times he looked up from his book to frown at his friend.

Finally, Winter slumped on the couch too. He curled up on himself and grabbed a pillow, burying half his face in it. The pillow was a bit like fur, all soft and fluffy. It was nice holding it in his arms.

Maybe that was the solution?

"I want a plush" he blurted out but most clearly.

"Oh, okay" Steve replied mildly surprised - but he retrieved his phone from his pocket without further delay. "I think we can order one on Amazon-"

Winter shook his head. He put down the pillow and stood up.

"No, no. I want to touch it first. Like, test it."

He glanced at Steve. The blonde was still holding his phone, already on the website. He bit his lips then shut his phone and put it back inside his too-tight jean.

"Okay" he repeated.

He thought about it for a moment.

"We can go to the Mall" he suggested eventually. "But I don't know if there will be much choice?"

Winter was already at their doorstep.

"Perfect. Let's go."

Shopping at the Mall turned up to be a fun moment. They never went there because there was a smaller supermarket near their apartment that was much more convenient for grocery shopping. So, as they happened to be there - and after Steve promised Winter that he'd have his plush - the blonde took the opportunity to buy some cleaning products and food they couldn't find in their usual supermarket. When this was done, they went to find the stuffed animals for Winter to pick one. He chose a giraffe and Steve insisted for paying it.

As they left the Mall, Winter looked down at his plush and imagined that he was definitely getting better. The sadness feeling was still making a knot around his heart but now there was also the fun feeling to counteract it, the "I'm doing a completely useless activity right now but it's fun and HYDRA never allows me to have fun so screw them, that makes it even funnier" kind of feeling. So, Mrs Giraffe hadn't swipe all the sadness away yet. There was still something missing and he had still no idea what.

Steve must have felt how his thoughts were going because he asked him softly:

"What now? Do you want to go home or do you want to do something else?"

The brunette looked around. They were in a grim, busy parking lot. Sure, there shouldn't be much to do around here. But he certainly wanted to __do__ something else.

"I want..."

"Yes?"

Maybe he should keep it simple. And trust his friend.

"I'd like to do something fun."

Steve's face lightened up immediately. Seeing him that excited definitely made his stomach twitching - but not in a bad way.

"I have an idea! There's a amusement park that's, like, ten minutes on foot from here. Whaddya think?"

Winter thought that in an "amusement park" there was a high chance he could find something fun.

They started walking and on the way to the park, Steve offered to him to put his plush inside his bag with the rest of their purchases so he wouldn't be hindered by it - or worst, lose it.

The amusement park got a lot of attractions that actually sent stars in Winter's eyes. One especially had him all excited and urging Steve to hurry up his sorry ass. Meanwhile, the blonde was pouting a little at the whole place.

"This isn't how I remembered it."

"Who cares Rogers? Can't you see how high this thing goes? I'm sure we'd be able to see all New York up there!"

The Ferris wheel was definitely a mistake for Rogers. Winter almost believed he was going to throw up at some point - weird and almost sad for a super-trained agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. When it was - finally - over, they chilled up on a bench with an ice cream. They stayed quiet and comfy until Steve pointed at a shooting range.

"I bet I could win you another plush!"

Winter looked up and growled.

"And I bet I could do better than you."

"Oh it's on then!"

They rose up and swallowed the rest of their ice cream with the cone like it was no big deal and Steve went to play first. He made his knuckles crack and smiled smugly at his friend - who smirked back at him, his own confidence leaking through his face.

The game was obviously rigged and they were truly amazed to find that it took the two of them and all their skills to win the medium elephant plush they were aiming for. On their way home, though, the debate was less on the treachery of the showman and more about who helped get the plush more.

"I hit the target three times in a row!" Winter exclaimed.

"But I demolished mine!" Steve replied as energetically.

"So what? You're stronger than me but I am more precise and that's what matters in battle Rogers!"

"No, I'm pretty sure strength matters."

Winter sighed dramatically and Steve burst out laughing.

When they were home, they organized the grocery and Winter went to his room to set his two stuffed animals on both side of his pillow. When he returned to the living room, Steve had dropped back on the couch with his book. Winter sat next to him and a comfortable silence settled between them.

Winter analyzed his mind to discover the sadness feeling had __still__ not gone away yet. What more? What was he missing? He got sweet things to eat, he had fun, no threat of punishment from HYDRA for that, by the way - so what more did his body need? The brunette glanced at Steve. His friend was reading with a light smile on his lips and his blue eyes got that sparkle of interest that made him so beautiful to look at. Winter decided that there was an opposite of "punishment." He leaned forward to Steve.

"Do you... Can you comb my hair?"

Steve sat up right away - as if he had been waiting for something like this the whole day.

"Yes of course!"

Winter felt his mouth curving into a smile. He was ready to go fetch his comb when Steve grabbed him by the elbow.

"But, er- actually, I was thinking that you could take a shower first? Y'know, to relax and stuff. If you want of course."

Winter slowly nodded. Steve had really good ideas sometimes - most of the time, truthfully, only not when his own safety was on the table. He rose and went to his bedroom to grab his pajamas before heading for the bathroom. There, he took one long, hot shower. He especially put a lot of effort in washing his hair. He came back in the living-room with a towel simply put on his head, his comb and a hairdryer. Steve was already waiting for him.

It took far more time to comb his hair and get rid of the few knots in it that it should have been but the utility of the action wasn't their first motive. It was still the middle of the afternoon but Winter was dozing off and nearly fell asleep on Steve's laps. Well, he __did__ and when he woke up two hours later, Steve was cooking dinner and had made a cake. They ate and played Uno for a bit before they both went to sleep.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Winter was thinking about his day. Let's be honest: he had failed it. The sadness feeling hadn't left him for one second - not even as the happiness feeling hadn't stopped growing bigger and bigger along the day. Sighing, he grabbed his diary and like he used to, started listing the things he had done during the day. When he was done, he checked the date on his phone to add it at the beginning - and that was when it finally clicked in his mind.

 _ _Stalin's polished boots.__

Winter looked down at what he had written. The cakes, the plush, the amusement park... Of course. It was so obvious now. It was as if his subconscious had tried all day long to got it right even if he hadn't been able to remember what "it" was.

But now he did. Tears filled his eyes and he had to close his diary.

" _ _Happy birthday Winter__ " he murmured to his old, broken, patching-wounds self.

And he had no idea that in the other bedroom, Steve was laying on his bed, staring at an old black and white photography picturing two men in uniforms, wishing the same thing to his dearest friend in the world.


	6. Chapter 5

Steve thought he was going to die - and there was nothing he could do about it. It was a visceral feeling, one he hadn't felt in a really long time. It went all the way back before he received the serum. Sure, Captain America had fought Death itself and sometimes he even faced it from so close, everyone said it was a miracle afterwards - not to mention his eighty years under ice. After Bucky died, Death was a familiar companion he - let's face it - openly craved for sometimes. When he joined the Avengers, each battle seemed only bigger than the precedent and they were all aware their death meant everyone else's. So Death was part of the job, you could say. Death was the one silhouette he waved at gleefully everytime he jumped off a plane without a parachute. Or rushed into a fight with evil robots and a simple shield as a weapon.

Cap wasn't trying to get killed - he only wanted to know where his limits were. And maybe he'd just met them.

Every punch he tried, the Soldier blocked him. Every escape he attempted, the Soldier stopped him. Every attempt, every single move got predicted - and blocked. How did he even achieve that? How did he even become that good in less than a week? (But that was definitively a question for another time - if he ever survived that fight.) Another kick and Cap got sent to the hard cold ground. What could he do? Beg for mercy? The Winter Soldier didn't have mercy. As a matter of fact, he didn't have emotions at all. Cap rose again, panting and feeling blood in his mouth coming from the deep cut on his upper lip.

"I could do this all day" he said.

That was wrong. The Soldier had already taken care of his shield - they were fighting on the docks and he had sent it all the way down into the dark waters. In retaliation, Cap had managed to take the Soldier's guns out of the picture, but he still got his knives. And those moves. Who taught him those moves? It was like fighting another self - except that this self was evil and didn't only knew how to block but also how to attack. Steve was beginning to think he was going to die. It was the same, helpless feeling than when he used to be lying in bed, hit by the flue or pneumonia or whatever else his fragile body felt like surrendering to and all Steve could do was wait to see if it was going to be his last sickness or not. There was nothing else to do - just wait for Death to come.

But suddenly, everything changed - and for the best. A SHIELD helicopter roared in the sky, promptly followed by the swift sound of Sam's wings.

"We're here!" yelled Natasha.

Sam was holding her by her armpits and she opened fire at soon as she could spot the dark figure of the Winter Soldier - and she had really good eyes. The Hydra assassin took flight right away but not before he could leave a little gift of his own - a miniaturized bomb. Natasha cuddled with Cap and Sam protected them both with his wings. The breath of the explosion felt like a punch in the gut but fortunately, they survived.

And Steve finally passed away.

Winter was happy. Well, "happy" might not have been the right word. He still had trouble putting a word on the things he was feeling inside. So he would say that he was feeling pride for his skills plus restfulness from Hydra's pressure being lower plus this nice thing he felt when he was playing videogames with Steve and they smiled at each other. Overall, his whole body - though aching from the fight earlier on the day - seemed lighter. Winter almost caught himself hoping along the street. Ridiculous. But relevant somehow?

The brunette stopped when he arrived at the door of his home. He looked down at the plastic bag in his left hand, all bulky and heavy from the (too) many mandarins it contained. Mandarins were good for the body during the month of January and - to top it all - they tasted delicious. Not as sweet as plums but Winter was definitely all over the moon for them, too. And he got so excited by his Hydra debrief that went so well that he thought he deserved to be rewarded. Of course, Steve also liked mandarins so he had brought plenty for them to eat together. He switched the bag in his other hand so he could retrieve his keys when he finally realized there was light coming from under the threshold - meaning Steve was already back. Fortunately, he had one of his hoodie on him - they had called him in a hurry so he was in civvie before he got into the fight with Captain America. He brushed his sleeves over his eyes to wipe off any remaining combat kohl and then walked into the apartment, showing off his bag with excitation.

"Steve, it's me! You're never gonna believe what hap-"

Blood. On the floor. And the carpet - and some drops on the couch too. Winter fell quiet right away. He put the bag of mandarins on the countertop and followed the red trail while taking one of his knife out. When he made it to Steve's door, he heard weak moaning. Immediately, his own blood started rushing through his veins and he found himself pounding on Steve's door.

"Steve! Steve! Are you all right? Can I come in? Please, answer me!"

A muffled voice came out of the room.

"Winter? You're... Yes, come in."

The brunette put his knife away and stepped inside the bedroom, not looking at its impeccable tidiness or the otherwise complete lack of customization.

"Oh God" he said when he spotted his roommate bleeding out on his bed.

The young man helped Steve settled on the couch - he winced nonetheless when his aching butt hit the cushions.

"Take it easy" said Winter.

He helped him got rid of his navy blue shirt and they both looked down at his bleeding side. Winter shook his head.

"I can't believe- How are you not even in a hospital right now?" he asked switching to his hissing tone that he had been using more often lately - in fact, every time he had noticed that Steve "please Winter eat something" Rogers hadn't even touched his own food yet.

Steve wriggled, trying to hide a laugh that would hurt his bruised thoracic cage. He remembered passing out and waking up in a SHIELD infirmary with Sam, Nat and even Fury surrounding him. Sam reassured him about his shield - agents were looking for it as they were talking. He also insisted to take him to a proper hospital (and Nat backed him up) but as soon as the blonde had debriefed by Nick, he had asked to be taken home. He thought his injuries were only superficial.

Apparently, they weren't.

"Listen, Winter, you don't have to worry. Really, I'll be fine in no time."

Considering all the hard times he had gone through whether it was during the WWII or with his Avengers business, there had never been an injury one week of rest hadn't been enough to overcome. He'd have to take it easy for four or five days and then it would be just fine. Hell, a break was probably what he needed most: lately, he had felt like he was rushing through traps on top of traps. It was high time he took a closer look on the Winter Soldier's file once more.

"Whatever. Ain't gonna leave you like this" mumbled his friend.

Winter rose and went to the bathroom. He came back shortly afterwards with the first-aid kit and a basin he had filled with lukewarm water. Slowly, he began to clean Steve's wounds. The blonde winced but the pain was already lighter than an hour ago. Without really realizing what he was doing - pain was an excuse - he brushed through Winter's hair, wrapping his fingers around his somber, soft strands. Winter looked up.

"You had a good day?" Steve asked as if this situation was perfectly casual.

The brunette looked away and he frowned.

"Bad day?"

Winter shook his head.

"No. Not like this. Actually... it's quite the contrary."

"Oh."

Steve tried to sit up, groaned and gave up. Meanwhile, Winter grabbed the rolls and bandaged his torso, wearing his so-serious face. Their heads were only a few inches away and Steve felt blushing for no reason. He needed to focus on something else - that would also distract him for the pain.

"Want to tell me?"

Winter cut the bandage roll and made a tidy knot.

"I'm all ears."

The brunette finally locked his gaze on him and a smile blossomed on his face - Steve mirrored it instantly because that shy smile was what he had been expected to see for the whole day (though he wouldn't admit it). His friend helped him getting back into his shirt then he adjusted the cushions and wrapped him into a blanket without minding his protests. Eventually, he sat up on the other side of the couch, his back against the armpit. Their feet lightly touched at the middle of the couch. Winter rested his chin on his knees and told him about his day - presumably at the University because he didn't say otherwise and Steve had gotten used to him just saying "they" to refer to his teacher and his classes in general.

"They were so proud of me today. They told me I would surely finish my work tomorrow. My main work I mean."

"You've been working on this for a long time?"

"Yes. Since the beginning of the year. I thought it'd take much less time but- Anyway, they told me they were really proud of me and they congratulated me."

Steve's smile brightened. Winter had always appeared to lack self-confidence. Whenever they talk about his work, he'd always talk about it in a way that made Steve realize that his skills was above average but at the same time, he seemed unsure about how people saw and reacted to these skills. Thus the blonde was glad his teachers congratulated him.

"That's amazing, Winter. Really. What's the subject?"

His face darkened.

"Can't tell."

And he recoiled on his side of the couch. Steve let out a faint sigh. Of course. Winter never spoke about his paintings - nor did he ever show one to him. It made Steve so upset - but he understood nonetheless. Back in the forties, he didn't show all his drawings to Bucky either. Winter was just shy and he shouldn't push him.

"Sorry. I just- What I mean is, I hope you'll be proud of the result. That's the only thing that matters."

Winter slowly nodded. Then, he burst on his feet sounding all excited again.

"I brought mandarins to celebrate!"

Steve giggled.

"I love mandarins!" he replied.

He watched Winter heading to the kitchen counter and pouring all the soft orange fruits in their fruit basket then testing each and every one of them with his left hand. He finally settled on two of them. He grabbed a towel and came sitting on the coffee table, next to Steve, after moving said table to be closer to his friend. He spread the towel over his laps and started peeling the first mandarin. His moves was as efficient as usual. When he got one piece, he lifted it to Steve's mouth and the blonde laughed again.

"I'm not that disabled, you know!"

Winter stared back at him.

"Shut up and eat Rogers."

So Steve obediently opened his mouth. The fruit was perfectly ripped and his juice was sweat and refreshing. Winter peeled another slice. He opened his mouth again but the brunette ate it without looking at him. He got the next one, though. And the fifth one too. They ate the first mandarin then the second without speaking. When they were done and there were orange peelings all over the towel, Winter wrapped it up so none would escape and rose up.

"I'll make dinner tonight" he announced. "Whaddya want?"

Steve shrugged.

"Anything will do."

Winter stared at him like he was trying to decipher a coded message from his whole behaviour.

"I know what I can make you."

Steve didn't know what he meant but the brunette was already behind the kitchen counter making dinner. Steve was willing to help but knew he couldn't - he didn't even trust himself to carry the plates from the cupboard back to the coffee table. He would have settled with his current book - a novel from Virginia Woolf that he found most interesting - but alas, it was in his room. He couldn't rise up to get it and there was no way he'd ask Winter to get it for him. So he turned on the TV with a sigh. At least, the mindless shows would ease that guilt of his.

When dinner was ready, he turned the TV off and smiled at Winter bringing the food - a huge bulk of pasta with meatballs in it. It was good but there was more: the brunette had made pastries for dessert. They were cones made of dough and covered with glistening sugar and filled with a green cream. It smelled strong mint and tasted beautifully.

"What's that?" he asked.

Winter answered with words he couldn't quite catch but the sonority of it was somehow familiar.

"Is it from-?"

"Russia."

Steve blinked. A thought just occurred to him, something that he had never truly paid attention to.

"Winter, you're... Are you Russian?"

It was painful how little Steve had cared about that - yet, Winter swore a lot in Russian. Not to mention his whole set of expressions like "Stalin's boots."

"Maybe."

Well, that wasn't much of an answer really, wasn't it? But Winter was getting joyful again, grabbing one of the creamed cones and shoving half of it in his mouth.

"Andrea taught me how to cook them. 'Course, they're not s'posed to have mint in them. But that was his secret ingredient. Always made them when I got beat up. Sayin' that you can put bandages all you want or drink all the vodka in the world but really, you need __trubochka s kremon__ if you want to heal properly."

Steve wasn't naive - that was the second time of the day that Winter had hijacked the conversation. The blonde didn't know what to make of that. The guy could simply be over-shy. Or he could hide something. Steve didn't want to believe that this something could mean bad things - no, Winter seemed like a nice guy. It was more of a feeling that that the brunette had something he should share with him. It hadn't gone unnoticed by Steve how Sam talked in a low voice around him. (It was pretty clear that Sam knew what was up actually. Steve and he would have to talk about that later.)

"That Andrea... He's a friend from University?"

It didn't sound like it. The way Winter had talked about him, it seemed there had been a fair amount of time since the two of them had seen each other.

"No..."

Winter shook his head and chewed at the rest of his cone.

"He was... I think... Actually I don't know. He yelled at me a lot but he also took care of me. Yeah, I mean, we were __komrades__."

"So you grew up in Russia?"

The brunette tilted his head.

"No. I lived there. But I didn't grow up there."

"Where did you grow up then?"

A faint sly smile twisted his lips.

"Brooklyn."

"Like me!"

Steve felt something hot inside him - suddenly Winter felt more familiar than ever. He wanted to go on and brag about good ol' Brooklyn when he remembered Winter never knew that Brooklyn. That Brooklyn, the Brooklyn he grew up into was gone for quite a lot of years now. He had barely recognized it when he had come back for the first time and he still got lost sometimes.

They both fell in a not-quit-but-almost awkward silence. Eventually, Steve started dozing off. His super-healing was taking a lot of energy out of him - if the fight alone hadn't been enough to exhaust him. He yawned and nearly didn't hear Winter.

"Want me to read to you?"

He was staring at him but in a wary attitude. It was an odd request but Steve figured he couldn't do anything else but listening - given he wouldn't fall asleep right at the beginning - while he also wanted to enjoy Winter's presence a little more.

He smiled.

"I'd love to. But first help me get back into my bed OK? I know you'd feel bad if I start sleeping on the couch."

So Winter helped him rise on his feet then led him into his bedroom. While Steve made himself somewhat comfortable - he traded his jeans for his pajamas pants but couldn't force himself to remove his shirt (his ribcage hurt too much) - Winter went to his own room to fetch a book. He came back with two; a novel and one considerably smaller. Steve patted the mattress next to him and Winter took off his shoes to climb into the bed.

"So? What are you going to read me?"

The brunette stared at the small book. His right hand was fidgeting nervously with the corners. Steve looked upon and saw that it was a collection of Anna Akhmatova's poetry. Obviously, talking about Russia had opened a door Winter was more than willing to let him walk through - although he acted reluctant as anyone would be, talking about something his friend had no natural connection to.

"Anna Akhmatova?" Steve asked with a bright enthusiasm, "I have heard so much of her but I've never found the time to actually read her! This is an excellent idea Winter."

He wriggled further under the sheets and put his arm between his head and the pillow so he could clearly see his friend. Winter blushed briefly but his smile told Steve what he needed to know - and the brunette started reading.

His voice was deeper but smooth. His edition was a bilingual one allowing him to first read the poem in Russian then the translation and he put so much thoughts on both versions that Steve could almost understand the poems without the need for English. As time went by, Winter got colder and snuggled too under the blankets. Steve had closed his eyes. His need for sleep had vanished and he simply enjoyed the sound of Winter's voice and the peacefulness of their apartment. It was good.

Eventually, Winter finished the short collection of poems. He put down the book on the bedside table, on top of the American novel he had brought in case Steve had refused to hear more Russian things. More minutes passed and Steve nearly fell asleep. He woke up with a stroke when Winter suddenly blurted:

"I think there's a traitor within SHIELD."

Adrenaline started rushing through his veins and Steve sat up, leaning on his elbow and ignoring the pain at his side.

"Why would you-? How do you-? Wha-"

He swallowed.

"I, er, don't know what you're talking about."

He wasn't fooling anyone. Winter gave him a smirk that made it clear enough. However he explained himself.

"Why did you get beat up that badly?"

Steve shrugged - and God, it hurt.

"Because the, er, the guy I was fighting seemed to know my every move."

"Exactly."

Winter pulled his knees to his chest and chewed on his right thumb.

"I don't understand" Steve said, "I mean, how could he know all my moves? Sure, we had fought against each other a few times before, but today it was like he had received a special training especially to beat me!"

"You've got SHIELD training" Winter cut him off. "Which means you don't train alone, am I right?"

Steve nodded.

"Yeah but I only trained with Sam and Nat."

He blushed - __and with all the other Avengers too__. But Winter didn't know about them (and didn't need to). In fact, he hadn't met Natasha yet.

Winter suddenly gazed at him.

"Are you that naive you think SHIELD doesn't record all your training sessions?"

Steve opened his mouth to answer... and shut it close. That did sound like a SHIELD thing to do. Even when he trained at the Avengers Tower, what could make him certain nobody was watching? Fury was at the origin of the Avengers initiative after all. Maybe Stark allowed him to have a look at what they were doing inside the Tower. The blonde shivered. The thought of having his life so closely monitored didn't make him feel good.

His friend seemed to get what he was thinking because he softened his voice.

"Don't worry. I think it's just the work of one double agent. You just need to find them and it'll be over. And meanwhile, you can learn new moves so their work will become useless."

Steve nodded slowly.

"Yes, you're right."

He settled back on his pillow and waved at Winter to do the same. After a few seconds of hesitation, the brunette also lay down and rested his head on the pillow, thus being separated from him by little distance.

Steve was already thinking about whom he should ask to teach him new moves. Maybe Natasha with her Red Room training? Or Stark - Stark was a disaster without his armor but still, he had learned some martial art. And maybe Thor could help him to use his shield in new ways?

But something bugged him.

"How do you know I'm with SHIELD?"

Winter rose an eyebrow.

"You've got a jacket with its logo on the sleeve. You wore it last Tuesday."

"Oh."

He blushed again - and was glad that Winter had switched the light off so he couldn't see it. Meanwhile, his friend kept smiling lightly until he openly burst out laughing.

"God you're such an idiot! How are you even still alive?"

Steve laughed too.

"You're reminding me of someone."

The brunette squinted his eyes.

"Someone nice?" he asked warily.

Steve's smile broadened.

"My best pal."

Winter snuggled a bit closer to him.

"How was he?"

Steve tried to act as if he was coming up with a thoughtful answer. Finally, he smirked wickedly.

"A real pain in the ass. Always telling me I shouldn't pick up fights with men twice my size-"

"You shouldn't."

"There! Exactly him! You even got his eyebrows!" the blonde replied half offended and half chuckling.

His smile vanished though when he added:

"Maybe you're right and I shouldn't. But the world needs someone to do it anyway."

Winter didn't answer.

Steve closed his eyes and rapidly fell asleep.


	7. Chapter 6

Winter was coming.

Not in the sense of the latest season of Game of Thrones that Sam had - finally - talked Steve and Winter into watching - but in the sense of snowstorms becoming more and more frequent. Some days, they'd even have to take a shovel and get rid of the snow for the whole building (Steve was eager to help, Winter was eager to do good beside Steve and the old ladies within the building were eager to reward the two of them with hot chocolates and homemade cookies).

For the Winter Soldier, it meant that missions were becoming harsher and harsher - with sharp wind blowing into his face when he was high up there, on the rooftop of some building taking a shot at yet another one of his targets.

For Captain America, it meant that the track of the HYDRA assassin was becoming harder and harder to follow - if he was previously a ghost, now he was not even a pale figure sometimes spotted at the edge of an edifice.

(Steve - and HYDRA - were both unaware of Winter staring contemptuously at his white gear that made him invisible - __but he hated white dammit!__ )

Their fights had also increased in violence. The two super-soldiers might run hot in the inside, it was all but high discomfort being thrown in the half melt snow, the dirty mud, the large icy ponds along the streets or on the rooftops or at the corner of a black alley. They came back home chilled to the bone, nearly catching a cold after each fight and finding only solace in each other - because whether it was Steve or Winter coming back home first, they never failed to piled up blankets on the couch and get a hot drink ready for when the second would cross the threshold.

Steve believed that Winter spent too much time outside - maybe due to his recent project which was about nature and landscapes and Winter harassed Steve to stop going on missions because obviously the traitor within SHIELD was still there and he was too undressed anyway.

February was a cold month but they kept each other warm. Until that one morning.

Steve was coming home and back from the groceries - and struggling to do so. Fury had called him very early - it wasn't even seven in the morning when he got the text and his extraction five minutes later - but the lead they had followed turned out to be a dead end so he figured he could just as well do the groceries (Winter was supposed to be on duty for it yesterday but the poor boy had caught a flue and Steve fought to have him stay home). Alas, he didn't plan for the wind to start blowing so strongly and so icily. By the time he had everything they needed packed in three plastic bags, the weather was so bad even he couldn't see on the other side of the road.

When he finally made it near their apartment lot, he spotted a lonely figure sitting on the metallic stairs, next to their door. It'd suddenly vanished out of his sight everytime the wind got stronger and nothing could be seen but white dots and gray sky - yet Steve noticed how the silhouette remained perfectly still.

The blonde frowned and bounced up the stairs.

His eyes went wide and his heart started racing when he eventually figured out who the person was.

"Winter?! For Christ's sake, what are you doing here!"

The brunette sat on the last step, his gaze lost in the horizon and not even wearing a coat. His hands were wrapped in his usual black gloves but his right arm was shivering. His nose was red and running and his hair almost standing in its own, frozen. How long had he been there for shit's sake?

Steve dropped his bags to the ground and hurried towards him, putting one knee on the one step below so he could look up at him. Without hesitation, he grabbed Winter's right hand with his left but let the other rest on the boy's lap - it had been long enough since they moved in together than Winter had no more need to keep his left side away from Steve's whole habit of hugging and holding hands and stuff. Steve did it already by himself. This didn't mean, however, that his grip wasn't strong - it was as strong as his growing worry towards the lack of reply from his friend.

"Winter? Can you hear me? Please, Winter, answer me!"

Steve kept staring at the brunette until this one, eventually, shrugged, as if he was waking up from a dream. His blue eyes blinked a few times before they settled on Steve's. Recognition then happened and a fragile smile blossomed on his face.

"Steve?"

And Steve's heart broke. This whole gaze, his lips so thinly parted - and so colorless from the cold - his feeble, unsure voice when he asked "Steve" - and at the same time, that underlying happiness - it was Bucky. It was so fucking Bucky when Steve had rescued him from the Azzano's camp, it hurt too much and his heart broke.

Because the blonde didn't want his roommate slash new best friend to see what turmoil he was finding himself in, he simply bent forward and held him tight. Winter got taken aback but soon he returned the hug and buried his face into Steve's neck.

After a few seconds, Steve parted and grabbed his hand.

"Come on. Let's get you home."

He helped him get back on his feet, seized his bags of grocery in only one hand and opened them the door to the apartment. Winter went to slump into the couch right away while Steve put the bags down on the kitchen counter - he'd deal with them later.

"Can I make you something? Hot chocolate maybe?"

Winter didn't reply. Steve looked up and saw that he was now trembling from all over his body. Steve ran to him and put his hand on his forehead.

"Oh God, Winter, you're burning. Why have you done that?"

This was supposed to be a rhetorical question but Winter answered nonetheless - to Steve's surprise.

"I don't know" he said biting his lips.

Steve frowned. He opened his mouth but shut it up quickly and instead chewed on his inner cheek. That would be a question for another time. For now, he had to take care of his friend. He hauled him up, pulling on his sleeve that was now dripping from the snow melting.

"Come on, we have to get you in other clothes, these ones are too damp!"

But the brunette refused and shook his head vigorously.

"Why?" Steve asked.

Winter looked down sheepishly at his left arm. Only then Steve noticed how perfectly still it stood by Winter's side. His brow furrowed.

"Is that so bad? Do I need to take you to a hospital?"

Again, Winter denied - with a slight touch of irritation.

"No, I'm fine."

Steve tilted his head. "Fine" was certainly not the word he would have used. But he knew how stubborn his friend could be - actually, almost as much as he was himself - so if Winter didn't want to get to the hospital, nothing would take him there.

"OK, I've had enough" he said, "go get your pajamas, I'm gonna run you a bath."

Steve stood, watching Winter going to his bedroom before he himself headed for the bathroom. He decidedly turned the tap to the hottest and waited till the bath was half filled with boiling water. Only then did he began to cool it down a bit until he figured he had found the perfect - manageably hot - temperature. Winter arrived at this instant, carrying his stuff with one hand and not having taken off even his sweater.

They both stood, in expectation.

"Oh, for God's sake, Winter!" Steve finally blurted, mildly annoyed, "start undressing already!"

The man shook his head.

"Privacy." he replied.

Steve cocked his eyebrow and conspicuously eyed Winter's left arm. He didn't say a world, however. The brunette had to wriggled himself between him and the bath so he could settle his stuff on the chair next to it - and devoted for this sole purpose of supporting both their clothes and the towel as they had, brilliantly, figured out they should put the hooks next to the doors which meant way out of reach for someone inside the bathtub. Then Winter proceeded to undress, starting from his pants. But his left arm still wouldn't move and he fumbled with the button of his pants not being able to unbutton it.

Steve sighed and did it. His roommate let him help him through the rest of his pants and also his big combat boots but he put up a fight again when the blonde touched the fabric of his hoodie.

"I can do it myself!" he hissed, "you can leave now!"

Steve felt something hot burning inside him. It was as if he was fed up with Winter's shit while a muffled desire crawled under his skin.

"Winter, I can see you __dick__! What else would you be ashamed of?"

Obviously, the brunette hadn't thought of that himself because red covered his whole face and his hand flew to his crotch to cover the light bulge under the fabric.

Steve sighed again but his voice softened when he spoke:

"I'll leave if you tell me why you were standing outside without even a coat."

Winter couldn't bring himself to look up yet.

"I said I don't know."

"And you know I won't accept that answer."

The brunette fiddled with the trim of his boxer. Steve stared at him, waiting for a real answer but when it became clear it would never come, he raised his hand and gently brushed away the black damp strands of hair from his friend's face.

"Listen. It's clear that you can't use your left arm anymore. I want to know why. Or at least, I want to know what I can do for you. Are you hurt? Did you broke you bone? Something else?"

Suddenly, Winter pushed his hand away and his face turned red again.

"No! It's just too fucking cold, that's all!"

The blonde, surprised, took a step back.

"Cold?" he repeated dumbly.

"Yes, cold! What else? It's freezing outside if you haven't noticed! My arm's frozen and I don't want to touch it and I don't even want to move it because it's too. Fucking. Cold."

Steve was really dumbstruck.

"Too cold" he repeated - as it was the only think he could say for now.

Winter sulked - "why would you even care" he muttered grimly. Though, it didn't last long; soon he started taking off his sweater and as he struggled like before, rapidly, Steve had to come to the rescue because he wouldn't have managed it himself with just one arm. After the hoodie, there was a black tee-shirt and when the man was finally naked, Steve opened his mouth at the sight of the left arm - a metal arm.

Before he could say anything, however, the brunette glared at him as if he was challenging him to even try to speak. So Steve didn't talk but instead raised his hand and slowly moved it towards the arm. Winter tensed up but didn't move away. When Steve finally touched the metal, he immediately gasped and took a step back in awe.

"You're right! It's completely frozen! But how-?"

He shook his head in disbelief.

"Nevermind, we need to warm you up. Get in there right now!"

He waved at the bathtub. Winter turned his back on him to put off his boxer - the last piece of clothe still covering his nudity - and entered the tub.

Despite their bickering, the water was still fabulously hot and it only took one minute for Winter to immerse himself and bask in it.

Steve knelt beside the tub and wagged his hand in the water, both enjoying the feeling of the hot liquid between his fingers and checking the temperature. Winter wriggled gently and helped himself with his right hand to splash water over the back of his neck. He then proceeded to spray his left arm with tiny waves. After a few seconds, Steve imitated him. After a little while, the brunette began to move his arm again.

"Is it warming up yet?" Steve asked.

Winter nodded. Steve stared at the metal.

"That's weird. I mean- No offense, I didn't even know. I mean that's- I really didn't know for Christ's sake! I should have-! Aw, fuck, I can't even talk."

The brunette glanced at him with the shadow of a hidden smirk. He was obviously very much enjoying himself and the situation.

"What I meant was: it's weird that it doesn't warm up itself."

The blonde scowled at his own words.

"Well, I don't know nothing about it actually. Do you think it can?"

Winter tilted his head, thinking about it.

"Maybe" he replied after a few seconds. "But not mine."

Steve shook his head.

"Man, winter must be such a hard time for you. Why didn't you tell me anything?"

Another glare. Steve blushed with embarrassment.

"Yeah, that was rude, sorry. I just want to help, though" he added in a smaller voice.

For a little while, they stopped talking and just stirred the water to and fro. Winter's waves hit Steve and in retaliation, Steve splashed him at his torso. The waves got bigger and not before long, they were totally splattering each other. They stopped when a well-adjusted wave had Steve soaked from the top of his head to his chest so he had to rise up to dry his hair and face.

When he came back to the side of the bathtub, Winter had grabbed a soap. Steve noticed how careful he was not to touch or use his metal arm.

"Is it detachable?" the blonde asked. "Or water-proof? Shit, I should have asked you before."

"Nah, don't worry, it's fine."

When the man rose to put some soap in the lower half of his body, Steve closed his eyes and turned his face away. He then heard the shower head as his friend washed the soap and dirt away before settling down inside the cooling water.

They played a little more before Steve intertwined his fingers with Winter's left hand's. The metal was now at human body temperature. And it responded pretty well - looked like it could be as skilled as a real flesh hand.

"Where was it?" Steve asked softly.

"Afghanistan" Winter answered right away - and Steve nodded, comprehensive.

That was one war he hadn't fought in - for once. But he could as well picture it. Take away the trenches and the mud and the rain and put instead a desert and heat and sandstorms. The rest was the same.

"Sam told me I should be careful with you but he didn't tell me why. Guess he knew I'd be overprotective and too curious."

"Sam's a really wise guy."

Steve looked up and found Winter smiling wickedly. The blonde frowned but he strengthened his grip on Winter's hand and pulled - and the boy got drawn to him.

"Oy mister, I'm trying to take care of you here."

The smile got bigger. Steve's hand let go of the metal fingers and instead he stroked Winter's cheek with his thumb. He moved forwards and brushed through the dark strands of hair, half-wet, dripping cold drops.

"Can I wash your hair?" he asked.

Witner shifted inside the bath, in search of a more comfortable position.

"You really like my hair" he stated casually, eyes looking completely elsewhere.

Steve turned pink from nose to toes.

"I guess I do" he replied sheepishly, feeling his gut wrenching at the thought that his behaviour might not be acceptable - but then Winter reassured him.

"S'okay. I like it when you touch it."

And he bent forward, crossing his arms on the edge of the tub and resting his chin on them.

Steve turned the tap to a little hotter and grabbed the shower head. He used his right hand to hold it so he wouldn't accidentally touch Winter's left arm. He started by properly wetting the hair before putting shampoo on his hands and massaging Winter's head. It was weird to do so not from behind like any hairdresser would do. But Steve didn't mind: it allowed him to have a plentiful look at Winter's face. The brunette had his eyes half closed and a pure smile of satisfaction had blossomed on his red, pulpy lips.

Steve felt his stomach twisting at this simple sight.

 _ _Oh God__ , he thought.

When Winter's skin was red and hot from the shower and his hair as shiny and smooth as silk, Steve let him go and went to the kitchen to boil some water. The brunette put on fresh clothes and settled on the couch in the living-room with a towel wrapped up around his long hair. Using both of his hands, he was began drying it. Steve noticed that although he had put one of his irrationally too large hoodie, he hadn't put on his gloves - not even for his left hand. He did sit on the left side of the couch as usual, however.

Steve grabbed the plate with the two cups of smoking black tea he had made and brought it to the coffee table. Winter didn't speak for he was momentarily blind from the towel and the hair. Steve took that opportunity to fill Winter's cup with a generous spoon of honey - Winter liked his tea with some sugar or honey. He then took a sip of his own drink while Winter put the towel away. The brunette finally mumbled a thank you and seized his mug. Steve stared at him for a few seconds before pinching him on his elbow, tenderly. His friend turned to him, his eyes blinking from dizziness.

"What?"

Steve felt a huge urge to drag him into a tight hug but he was sure this was not what the brunette wanted at this moment - so he settled back on what he originally wanted to ask.

"Why did you go outside without a coat? Please."

Winter's face darkened and his hold on his mug tightened. But he answered.

"I don't know. I honestly don't know. I just went outside to take out the trash and then it started to snow and I- I don't know what happened. Something in my mind. I got so scared but I- it was weird. I got even more scared at the thought of going back inside. Like I would be- I would be-"

The word was struggling to come out. And failed.

A soft gasp escaped his throat and Steve spotted a single tear in the corner of his - so pretty, __damn!__ \- blue eye. He put a soothing hand on his shoulder and scooted near him.

"It's okay" he whispered softly. "You're okay."

Winter nodded.

For a few minutes, they didn't talk and just drank their tea. Then Steve spoke again, his voice calm albeit a bit hoarse.

"I don't like the cold either. Once, I got frozen into ice and now, every time it starts to get cold, I feel like I could go back into the ice at any moment. Or that I may never get warm again."

He stopped. Winter had looked up and was staring at him with an unreadable expression. But his interest felt genuine as he quietly waited for Steve to continue. This was nothing the blonde had ever told the shrink SHIELD sent him when he had woken up from the ice - well, after their little masquerade failed anyway.

"It doesn't happen all the time, of course. I mean, winter in D.C. is pretty decent comparing to the Alps in Europe or something. And it's not like I can't put on a coat for that feeling to disappear. It's just... You know, sometimes, it just takes me off guard. I'm walking and my mind is distracted but suddenly I touch something really cold and then I realize that the air and everything around me is cold. And I got-"

He swallowed. Glancing down, he saw that his hands were shaking - and he mildly jumped when Winter reached out and took his hands firmly in his'. Steve looked up at him and saw his friend smiling tenderly.

"I don't know what happens" he said, his eyes locked on Winter. "And it makes me feel weak and I hate that. I hate myself because it's so ridiculous - seriously who's afraid of the cold? - but I just can't stop it. I can't help it and I don't even know when it'll happen."

The grip on his hands tightened soothingly.

"I understand" Winter said.

And so Steve brought himself to smile - poorly but smile nonetheless.

For another couple of minutes, they sat quietly, bathing in each other's warm presence. Steve put down his empty mug and took out his phone from his pocket. He started typing rapidly on it. Winter tilted his head so it rested on Steve's shoulder and closed his eyes, focusing on the sweet smell of the tea, Steve's skin and his own hot and clean skin.

"Hey" Steve finally said. "I got an idea for your arm."

Winter glanced up.

"I know this friend - he's a mechanic. If you want - only if you want - we can pay him a visit. I'm confident he'll be able to invent something for your arm so it could never get cold like it does. How does that sound to you?"

Winter crouched his face for a second, thinking about the prospect of his arm never getting cold again, never giving him frost-bites on his shoulder or never being that dead thing at his side he dared not even touch it.

"Sounds like it would be great."

He hadn't even finished his sentence that Steve was already on his feet.

"Great! Come on then! We've still got the whole afternoon, I'm sure it would be enough!"

"Wait- what? Now? But we can't go to your friend like that!"

But Steve was smiling brightly and pulling on his sweater's sleeve.

"It's alright! Tony already texted me to say he's free. In fact, he's asking me if he should send a car to pick us up."

Winter was confused as hell - all his face could testify about that. But Steve's stubbornness was too much powerful and his enthusiasm couldn't be dent either so there was little to nothing he could do about a Steve enthusiastic stubborn project. He surrendered.

They quickly decided not to accept Tony's offer - Winter glossed over why he didn't want it but as for Steve, he had no desire of a Stark car near his undercover home (HYDRA would be sure not to miss it and that would put Winter in danger.) It was still highly freezing outside, however. So Steve literally wrapped Winter's arm in a blanket - despite Winter's muscular opposition to that idea ( _ _being that ridiculous was nowhere near acceptable, Rogers!__ ) and the brunette himself in his own biggest coat. As for himself, and regardless of everything he just told his friend, he only put on a scarf and a hat over his leather jacket.

The cold hit them both hard when they went out. Winter started shivering right away but then he grabbed Steve's hand and that simple contact soothed the two of them. They started walking - fast - pressed against one another.

The snowstorm was still raging and blowing harshly inside the streets, oppressed on their two sides by dark buildings and dim apartment blocks. On their way to the subway, they only encountered two other silent silhouettes. Right before they entered the subway, Winter stopped on the stairs and looked up at the sky.

"Yet it looks like a ballet" he said.

Steve stopped too to look up and saw what his friend meant.

It was cold and the wind was rushing through his jacket and past his scarf and overall felt like whipping his exposed cheeks. But up there, the sky was full of gray immensity, void devoid of clouds, Brooklyn's buildings remaining at his peripheral vision - and the snow was dancing, dancing and swirling, like little white dots on a somber background, little white stars on a endless sky. And as they were facing it, they were staring right at the heart of the universe - a cold, constant, ever-changing universe but a so peacefully graceful one, too.

It was beautiful.

"It does" Steve replied.


	8. Chapter 7

They hurried inside the subway - mainly because Winter didn't like having so much people around him and so tightly surrounding him. Though, Steve did look nervous too. They got out as soon as they could for them no to walk one hour around the busy and noisy streets of New York. The majestic, metal glowing modern building stood at the end of the avenue like a king, taller than the buildings around - but not that tall considering all the other skyscrapers in the US.

The Avengers Tower.

Winter slid a glance to his friend but Steve had already passed his arm around his shoulders and started walking, more or less pushing him forward. Winter shoved his hands inside his hoodie's ventral pocket - grunting when his left hand wouldn't fit because of that damn fucking-for-real blanket Steve had forced him to put around it so it wouldn't freeze again - and fell in steps with Steve, keeping the tower in sight.

The Avengers were some big deal but if he recalled correctly, they were busing fighting alien invasions and shit. Which meant not HYDRA's business. Consecutively, not his business either. (That was good. He didn't like having too much targets at the same time.)

When they arrived at the Tower, the glass doors rang and opened as soon in front of them. They stepped into the entry hall and Steve right up headed for the elevator on the other side of that deliriously big, over-crowded, well-lit floor, not minding for a second the security. They weren't ten foot inside the building, though, when Winter's phone buzzed in his pocket. He frowned but didn't look.

One large dude wearing a suit stopped them when they approached the elevator from too close but his friend rose his hand in a peaceful gesture.

"It's okay, Jack, he's with me."

Jack the bodyguard eyed him and Winter decided to stare him down as he would with any other one of his target. (Not great, soldier. Not the appropriate attitude.) Jack looked back to Steve then him then Steve again and when Steve frowned, he sighed and stepped back.

"Yes, of course, Captain. Everything's fine."

The elevator's doors slid open and they stepped inside.

Steve dialed one of the highest number possible and leaned back on the cabin's walls. The brunette rose a suspicious eyebrow.

"Captain?"

"Hum?"

"Why did he call you captain?"

Steve's face only showed blankness but suddenly, as if he had remembered something, he blushed all the way down and waved his hand as if to dismiss the concern.

"Oh, yeah, well, 'cause that's my rank, you know?"

Winter's frown deepened.

"You're a captain? I thought you were" - even though they were apparently alone (which they certainly weren't, the building being most likely to be stuffed with cameras in every angle ever) he lowered his voice to a whisper - "an agent of SHIELD."

Steve winced and got even redder. It would be cute if it wasn't the sign he was hiding something.

"Yeah, well, I'm not exactly... Let's just say I'm part of the US army but SHIELD recruited me as a, well, you could say a special agent."

The blonde tried to smile reassuringly. And he did, for sure. But Winter could tell it was a fake smile. The assassin scowled and fell quiet. He felt bitter knowing Steve didn't want to tell him the truth - and that was weird, that was even wrong, because, (he had to remind himself) the less he knew about Steve, the less he'd have to pretend not knowing anything in front of his handlers. He was feeling bad enough for not having told them that Steve was working with SHIELD, the very organization his handler would gladly see dead and buried a long time ago.

To pass the time - and pretend he was ignoring his friend - he took out his phone to look at the text he had received earlier in the entry hall.

If his face remained still, his right hand tightened on the device.

 _"_ _ _Why are you in Avengers Tower? Answer requested asap."__

"Everything alright?" Steve asked, trying to peek at the screen.

Did this man have no sense of privacy at all?

"I don't know Rogers. Last time I checked, there was some blonde guy spying on me and my private life. So you tell me."

His hissing tone along with his death glare made the man with only one scarf and a hat (when the temperature was obviously under zero) to back down sheepishly.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to be rude."

Steve leaned back again on the wall, giving him his space but Winter could still feel his adorable puppy eyes and his stupid smile lingering on him. It was quite the unnerving thing - but strangely enough, the brunette also felt the need to keep Steve looking at him like that. Forever.

He typed his answer.

 _"_ _ _Steve wants me to meet Tony Stark. It's his friend."__

His thumb hovered over the send button as he read and re-read his text. Was it giving too much away? Too little? He bit his tongue. Being punished because he hadn't been explicit enough would be quite the pain in the ass for a shitty day as it already was. Should he mention that his visit to Tony was because he wanted to make improvements to his arm?

Nah. HYDRA didn't have to know about everything that happened to the arm. (They barely knew how it worked and frankly, it was better that way. Stalin knows what they could do to him if they knew all there was to know about it.)

His roommate wanted him to meet one of his friend. Thinking about it, that was a pretty normal thing people do, right? Even if that friend happened to be Tony Stark - aka Iron Man. Maybe HYDRA would think it was another Tony Stark, though...

Don't be silly soldier.

He sent it.

At the same time he pressed the button, the elevator stopped and the doors opened.

"Come on!" Steve said gleefully.

Winter stored his phone away in his pocket and stepped inside what looked like a hyper-tech lab. Even HYDRA hadn't one of those in their main HQ in DC. And he wasn't sure S.H.I.E.L.D. had one either. Tony Stark was really on another level.

"There he is!" Steve said suddenly, pointing, and Winter looked up from a workbench threatening to collapse beneath a helluva lot of test tubes and other bigger sciency bottles to follow his finger to a quite small dark haired figure, bent over another table with a Bunsen burner in one hand and an... was it an __axe__ in his other hand?

"Tony, we're here!"

And was his stupid friend not capable of being quiet either?

Winter followed Steve, looking around him. He was pretty amazed, to be honest. So much cool tech. Not even potential weapons; he spotted a few useful inventions he would shamelessly steal for their apartment. Even the robots seemed somewhat conscious and friendly. One, who looked like a single perch with a mechanical hand and fingers attached to it, waved at him - and he waved back without thinking.

"Stark, for God's sake!" Steve hollered when he was exactly five inches away from the genius' ears.

The short man jumped and took off his earpieces - that would explain why he had ignored them all along.

"Capsicle! I told you never to- And who's Emo Boy right here? I assume you're Winter, right? Nice to meet you, call me Tony."

Winter shook a cooled down Bunsen burner before Tony realized he still had it in his hand and tossed it away on the table. He also put down the axe. Clapping his hands together, he looked at both of them with obvious curiosity - then fired.

"So? I was promised prosthetics. Show it, Grim Weather. Come on! Don't be shy! Is it that arm? Yes, I can feel it. Oh wait, what's that? Why did you do-? Is it that fragile? J.A.R.V.I.S.! I need a diagnostic, now!"

"Of course, sir."

In less than five seconds, Tony had grabbed his left arm, pulled up his sleeve to reveal the blanket wrapped around it and in another five seconds, he was almost done taking it off while holding in his teeth something that looked like a radar.

Winter glanced unsure to Steve but the blonde mildly winced and shrugged apologetically. Meanwhile, Tony tried to speak with the radar still in his mouth.

"Le'chee vhat ve got here!"

He cleared his throat, seized the radar and moved it up and down Winter's arm. Then - and still without letting him go - he turned to face his worktable above which a hologram just materialized - as much as a hologram could. Winter's eyes widened when he realized it was the exact copy of his metal arm. Finally leaving his arm be, Tony fidgeted with the ethereal blueprint, taking off the surface plates and digging into the mechanics who was formidably precise. Not even HYDRA had such a design of what was inside his arm!

And Stark obtained it in ten seconds?

"Stalin's boots..." he whispered, appalled.

The brunette felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Steve smiling tenderly at him - but with a touch of pride.

"I told you he was good."

"Good? I'm offended, Steve! Obviously I'm the best. Which doesn't mean I'm a seeker, however. What do you want me to do exactly? Your text didn't precise that."

Steve blushed again. (And this time, it was definitely cute.)

"Oh, yeah, sorry I- Anyway, what Winter needs is-"

"Wait! Look at that. That's beautiful. It's junk, really, so outdated and rough and- yeah I think I could reduce the weight by zero point seven. Eight if you give me time. You'd like it, right ? Eight it is. J.A.R.V.I.S., check up what I've got left as- oh, my. Is that what I think it is?"

"Tony?"

"I'm amazed this thing's still working. Truly amazed. So much old pieces and - and I'm positive about that part being nothing but a pain in the ass for the mechanical motion. Where did you get it again?"

"Tony..."

"I don't have this conductor right now. I'll have to build it. Give me five minutes. Three. I need coffee. These wires are solid, I give you that, but they're as useless as there are of th-"

"Tony!"

The genius blinked and finally detached his eyes and mind from the hologram to focalize them on the blonde man. Winter felt lost. His phone buzzed and his attention got distracted - therefore helping him to regain some sense of reality. Meanwhile, Steve was scowling at his Iron Man of a friend.

"Winter's arm freeze when it's too cold."

"What?"

"It even gives him frostbites! We need you to invent some short of heating so it won't happen again."

But Tony was already looking elsewhere. He had spotted, right next to his new fire-proof gauntlet - well, it was yet to be effective, there were still some... spontaneous combustion problems to deal with first - a white smudged mug. He giggled gleefully as he ran to it and swallowed all the coffee it contained in one gulp. Right before cringing because it was awfully cold. Also, he started to doubt it was even from today. Not wanting to muse over it any further, he turned to Steve again.

"I know that it freezes, Steve. What I meant is- that's all? A __heating__? You come to see me - and frankly you don't come often, do you hate me that much or is something wrong with your floor? I'll let you Coldy Pal stay with you if that what you want! - and that very one time you do come, you're just asking for a vulgar heating?"

Steve sighed.

"Frostbites, Tony. It. Gives. Him. Frostbites."

"I heard you!"

The man looked down at the barbecue skewer he had found - why was it doing here? - and came back to the two other men. Playfully, he pocked Winter in the ribs with the skewer while he wasn't paying attention to him, staring at his phone's screen. It immediately delivered an electric shock and the brunette gasped - hopefully because he was more surprised than hurt. (Right. He had forgotten about that invention, too.)

"So, what do you think, William Coldy?"

"What?"

The brunette glanced at him but his eyes quickly fell back on his phone. There was something mesmerizing about the new text he had received.

 _"_ _ _Kill Tony Stark. Finish Mission Blue Guns."__

(As soon as his eyes fell on the words "blue guns" he got flashbacks of a road under the moon, a car and two people inside it.)

Another instructions followed while he was reading the first ones.

 _"_ _ _Blow cover if necessary. No witnesses."__

"Blow cover" meant there was no need to fool or subdue Stark. He just had to kill him swiftly and nicely. Also meant he'd have to kill everyone who ever saw him as Winter the art student. Meaning Steve. So, basically: if he killed Tony right now, he'd have to kill Steve straight after it, too.

But to kill Steve meant...

"Winter? Are you alright? Hey, Winter, look at me!"

The assassin felt Steve's hand squeezing his right shoulder. It should be painful giving his strength - but it wasn't. It felt exactly like Winter wanted it to feel. Warm. Comforting. He looked up to his friend.

"Yes?"

Tony, who had, by some short of miracle, got the thoughtful idea of shutting up for a moment, moved slightly towards them so he could come into the brunette's sight.

"Listen, Winter" he said with a serious tone he was first using since the beginning of the conversation. "That heating, it's not a problem. I could even do it now if you wanted to-"

"Do it."

"-But I could also do more."

Winter blinked.

"More?"

He could always kill Stark after he had improved his arm.

"Yes. Your arm- I mean, the whole thing. I could re-design it entirely. Make it stronger, lighter. More efficient and easier to move. How's your sense of touch?"

"My what?"

"Do you feel textures?"

The brunette frowned. He looked down at his metal fingers, rubbing them against each other. He could apply whatever pressure he wanted on things but to feel their texture? Irrelevant to his task. Useless, even. (Not to mention technically impossible at the time the arm was made.)

"No."

Steve glanced at Tony. He could swear his old friend took a few seconds to calm himself down. A lot could be say about Iron Man - but not that he didn't have a heart as big as his ego.

"I could do that too" he eventually stated, giving his cocky smile again. "Everything I just said. I can do it."

"How much time will you need?" Steve asked him and Tony mulled over it for a whole second.

"One week. There's stuff and pieces I need that'll take time to obtain."

Steve then turned to his roommate.

"What do you say, Winter? You'd like it?"

Winter blinked again. More efficient Stark had said. Lighter, too. Stronger. Everything HYDRA couldn't do. Everything he needed to fucking end Captain America (and finally live in peace with Steve and a satisfied HYDRA).

One week. Could he manage one week from his handlers? Surely, not if he didn't tell them the whole truth. But if he did, would they let him have Stark modify his arm? They could fear he would put inside a off-switch - or worst. (Coming to think of that, except from having Steve's trust, what proof Winter had that Tony was being honest with him and wouldn't mess his arm up just to watch him suffer?)

"I- Well, I guess it would be nice..."

Tony clapped his hands again and his face lighted up like a child in front of his Christmas tree buried under the presents.

"Excellent! Come back next Friday, I'll have everything ready. Scout's honor."

"You never went to the scouts, Tony."

The man shrugged.

"Irrelevant."

He then pushed them both to the elevator.

"Now, time to go see that floor, Cap. No, Steve, don't even! I have made improvements since last time! Seriously, you'll love it!"

Steve frowned but let Tony lead them into the elevator and push the buttons to a floor two levels up.

"For the last time, Tony, I told you I don't want to move out. Our apartment in Brooklyn is just fine!"

"Shush. Wait till you see what I have come up with."

Winter fell quiet. They had entered the floor Tony had specifically designed for Steve. To be honest, the brunette liked it. It was simple but cosy. A tall plant in the entry, pale, warm-colored wall, a damn huge couch in the living room - Winter would stay on that couch for days! - some nice paintings on the walls too. A library already full of books for one third, movies for another third and CDs and vinyls for the last third. The bathroom was huge, the bedroom was huge. Everything was huge, really. Steve was frowning and scowling but Winter could tell he was looking at the whole thing with mild desire.

Winter's phone buzzed. He crouched near the bedroom's door, half hidden beneath the couch. Leaving the two friends to argue about some DVDs and CDs choices Tony had made that Steve apparently didn't agree with, Winter checked his messages.

 _"_ _ _Status update."__

He checked the time. It was already thirty minutes since he had received his mission's instructions. He typed his answer swiftly.

 _"_ _ _Working on it."__

Usually, he didn't need more than one hour. Maybe his handlers had felt that this mission was trickier than usual. And how trickier! Not to mention he had to avoid at all cost to ever blow up his cover - that otherwise would mean Steve's death and he couldn't because just the thought of Steve being gone and he was going to... - there was also that opportunity of an upgrade on his arm.

What should he do? After a long thinking, he came up with a plan. He rose up, ready to talk to Tony and immediately saw Steve closing his mouth. The blonde turned to Stark right afterwards to whisper something in his ears. Too bad, the Soldier had superhearing.

"We'll talk about it later. Please, don't say a thing. You might freak him out."

For how long had they stopped talking about the DVDs and stuff and moved on something more... sensible? The Soldier was beating himself up on this one. So focused on saving Steve, he hadn't even noticed when the two of them had gone quieter, whispering to one another.

Too late. Proceeding with the plan, now.

"Stark, I've changed my mind."

Tony frowned but Steve glanced at him and shut him up before he even got the time to open his mouth. The genius nodded. Winter continued.

"I want you to operate me now. You said you could do it, right?"

Tony crossed his arms.

"Well, yeah, I could. But I would only be able to install that heating. Maybe I could make a few more improvements too but the biggest part- Sorry, impossible today."

"Then forget about the rest. Another time. I need the heating now."

Winter quickly studied Steve. If the blonde was surprised by this sudden change of mind, he wasn't showing it. Instead, he was giving him that same smile he gave him when he wanted to encourage him - to talk more about himself, to be more open, more trusting. Nevermind what Steve thought it would be best for the brunette, he would do everything he could so Winter would do what he wanted to.

And killing Steve, that would also-

"J.A.R.V.I.S." Tony said "prep the lab."

"Yes, sir."

Winter still wasn't sure who Jarvis was and from where he was transmitting. Probably through the surveillance system. So, where would it be installed? He needed the tower to be completely dark if he was to keep his cover. But first:

"Steve, I need something please."

The blonde moved towards him until he could gently brush his elbow with his hand.

"Of course. What is it?"

Winter pouted. He knew that the more he looked like he was reluctant to ask Steve something, the more Steve would be eager to do it.

And like any other times, it worked.

"Winter, come on! You're about to have an operation, it's okay to ask me for something you think is stupid. I tell you, it's not. Anything you want, I'll do it, I swear. So tell me."

"That Akhmatova's poetry..."

Steve nodded immediately.

"Yes, of course. You want me to read or you want-? No, nevermind. I'll go get it for you right now."

"Hey Capsicle" Tony chimed in, "if you're talking about a book, you know I could get it to you on an StarkPad in like five seconds? It's called Internet and-"

That idiot was going to screw it all! Maybe killing him __was__ for the greater good.

"No! I need my book!"

That was probably too loud.

"Sorry" he said, turning to Steve - but Steve brushed through the strands covering his eyes, bringing them back behind his ears.

"No, no, don't apologize. It's fine."

The blonde grabbed his jacket he had thrown on the couch when he arrived and dressed himself, putting his scarf and his hat on. Tony looked at him as if he was seeing a ghost - or some loony.

"Don't tell me you're going all the way back to Brooklyn just for a book."

Steve gave him a glare.

"So that Winter won't freak out while you cut his arm open? Yes, __I am__ , Tony." He turned one last time to Winter. "Don't worry, I'll be back soon."

Then he vanished inside the elevator. As soon as he was out of sight, Winter let go of his breath he didn't even realize he had been holding. Steve was safe. Now, what he only needed to do was to find that Jarvis, take him out and then come back to kill Stark. Well, after another thing.

"I lied" he stated.

"About?"

"I don't need that book. I just didn't want Steve near us. He can be such a pussy when he thinks I'm in danger or something."

The billionaire smirked.

"Yeah, should have seen it coming. Let's do this before he's back, then."

Winter smirked too.

"That would be for the best, yes."

The assassination was a failure.

For one thing, the operation on Winter's arm went as planned - excellently. Winter got all pleased when the arm began diffusing warm through his whole body, starting from the prosthetic. Thanks to Tony "light improvements," he also found it way easier moving it around. It had the same weight but it was as if the information was coming faster from his brain to the mechanics - and it was certainly the case. The assassin asked for a bathroom to wash all the fat oil his torso and arm had ended covered up with. So Tony stayed in the lab, alone.

First, the Tower went dark. No more light, no more cameras. J.A.R.V.I.S. wasn't responding either. Tony felt his anxiety crawling under his skin but he managed to get inside his armor - just in time for the Winter Soldier to fall on him. The fight that followed was not an easy one for the genius, probably because the Soldier was like a ninja - and abnormally strong - and because he was in the middle of his lab and intended to make the lest damage possible. God knows how that would have turned out for him if Captain America hadn't intervened just when the Soldier was about to drive one of his knife into Tony's arc reactor. Cap fought with a new rage coming from nowhere and when Tony got on his feet again, the Soldier had nothing else to do but flee.

Captain America proceeded to go after Winter while Tony was putting the Tower back on line. He did find him on the entry hall but as soon as he approached, Winter got scared and ran away. (Later he would received a text from him saying that something went wrong at the Tower, that he had come back home and that they had surely met in the way and __please Steve come back too, I don't think it's safe there anymore.__ ) Steve get rid of his uniform and gave it to Natasha who was the one to pick him up urgently as soon as they had received Tony's automatic distress signal - then he headed back for Brooklyn.

Tony got the Tower back before Cap left but could only wish him good night and hoping he hadn't scare Winter for good - also promising the blonde he was starting to work on that new arm immediately. But first, he decided to determine how the Winter Soldier had broken into the Avengers' home. The guy was a real pro, no doubt, but he had made one mistake: breaking into a intelligent building - also known as J.A.R.V.I.S. What he found, watching the security footage - or rather the backup ones - left him speechless. Before he was able to send the data to anyone, however, they all disappeared at once. Looking up, he saw the redhead getting her USB key back and thanking J.A.R.V.I.S. for his help.

"Don't worry, Tony. I'm on it" said Natasha Romanoff, winking.


End file.
